Iell Pentin
by AnadoraBlack
Summary: [Sequel to Rhenio mì Ennor but can be read on its own] Baraz, daughter of Ariana and Bofur, had promised her mother to stay clear of the dooming events that would one day befall Middle-Earth. But her love of Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves and Men alike will push her to take part, against her best wishes, to the infamous Fellowship of the Ring. (Combined books/movies verse)
1. Prologue: Friendly warning

_A/N: Welcome readers and welcome back to those who read Rhenio mì Ennor, my previous fanfic based on Tolkien's work! I welcome you to a new part of my Lord of the Rings addiction, and this, although it was meant as a sequel to Rhenio..., can be read without having read the "first" part before. I will quickly presen to you what has happened in the previous instalment so you can immediately jump into this part. And to those who had read it in its time, then, it will serve as a quick reminder._

_I do really hope you will like it. As I did before, I will jump back and forth into both the books and the movies' worlds, but I will try to remain as canon as possible. Although, of course, my OCs will be presented._

_So, enjoy the ride, I do really hope you'll like it!_

_Last thing last: due to the amount of work such a story demands (I can't tell you how many hours I spend on ONE chapter), I will update only twice a month, maybe once more when I feel like it. I already have ten chapters at the ready, but you never know how life's gonna treat you, do you?_

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>Disclaimer:<span> Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Fìli, son of Kìli and some secundary characters._**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Playlist for this chapter: <strong>Axe or sword? - Misty Mountains cold (Dwarves version) in the An unexpected journey OST._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Previously, in Rhenio mì Ennor...<strong>_

_Ariana, an ordinary human from our world, finds a Hobbit door in her bedroom one morning. Going through it, she stumbles upon Bilbo Baggins on the eve of his meeting with Gandalf the Grey and the thirteen dwarves. She joins the party._

_Bilbo, too scared to leave on an adventure, refuses to help Thorin and his kin. Ariana, who calls herself Ari, is a huge LOTR fan and agrees to take the part in Bilbo's stead. Thorin is reluctant at first, but accepts._

_As she is thrown into the story she knows so well, Ari can't help but altering things as she goes: Bifur dies in the Misty Mountains, killed by the goblins; she gives Bilbo's surname to Gollum in the game of riddles so the story doesn't change sixty years later; she befriends Bard the Bowman and helps him recover his Black Arrow before they leave for the Lonely Mountain; while her unconscious body is carried through Erebor after Smaug left for Laketown, Bofur finds the Arkenstone and gives it to her; she takes it to negotiate with Thranduil the Elvenking and retrieves Gandalf and his cousin Radagast who have joined to fight; in the Battle of Five Armies, Fíli dies saving her, Thorin dies of his wounds, but Kíli survives._

_Kíli is offered Erebor's crown, but he refuses it and bows down to his uncle's cousin, Daïn Ironfoot. He moves back to the Blue Mountains and to his mother Dís._

_Ari befriends several dwarves during her journey: Bofur, with whom she eventually falls in love; Fíli and Kíli; and Oin._

_As a fan, she carries with her several tokens of Tolkien's world: a copy of Nenya, Galadriel's Ring, that she wears as a locket; and a Leaf of Loríen brooch._

_Ari and Bofur leave Middle-Earth through the door in Bilbo's gardens and get married in our world, eventually going back to Middle-Earth three years later as Ari is carrying their first-born._

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue: Friendly warning<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>2987 T.A.<strong>_

* * *

><p>The Hobbit hole was quiet as the sun set on Hobbiton. The only sound was the cracking of the fire in the hearth as the figure of an old lady sat in a chair, her eyes caressing the red cover of an old book, her eyes glossy with tears unshed.<p>

The figure of a younger woman then entered the room. She was looking in her twenties, long, flowing red hair reaching past her waist as she absent-mindedly passed a comb through it. Her bright blue eyes settled on the other woman, and she went to sit opposite her.

"Mother? What is that?"

The old woman's eyes lifted and met the younger one's gaze with a fierce sadness in her stare.

Ariana was 74 years-old, but felt much much older when she was gazing at her daughter Baraz, who looked ever young despite her 43 years of life.

Baraz shared the blood of both human and dwarf, and it gave her the lasting life of her father's kin. She had never looked upon her mother as an elderly, but Ariana couldn't help but feel old when she looked at her daughter. And even more so at her husband, Bofur, who, in his glorious 187th year of age, still looked like a forty-year-old human.

* * *

><p>She glanced at the book's cover once more. It was blood red, with the golden form of an eye engraved on it. Around the eye, scripting could be made, although it was not written in a language known to many. It was written in Quenya, and it told of the blackest magic of all.<p>

She sighed and put the book aside. "It's an old relic."

Baraz – it meant "red" in Khuzdûl and referred to her hair – leaned in and tried to read the title. "'The Lord of the Rings'. It sounds like something Uncle Bilbo would write..." she chuckled.

Ariana smiled softly at her daughter's joke. Yes, indeed, it sounded like something Bilbo Baggins would write. Although, technically, his nephew Frodo would write it. Much later...

* * *

><p>Ariana's family had settled in Hobbiton when she and her husband Bofur came back to Middle-Earth. Although her husband took several trips to the Blue Mountains or Erebor to visit his relatives and friends, he had always been content to live among the quiet and peaceful people that were the Hobbits. And despite their at first refusal as they voiced their wish to build their own home in their precious Shire, most Hobbits were by then used to the peculiar family living on a lonely hill near Bag-End.<p>

* * *

><p>Ariana's fingers traced the markings on the cover again, and a sigh escaped her lips. Then, very slowly, she brought the book to the fireplace, and dropped it into the flames.<p>

Baraz gasped and looked at her mother, blue eyes widening in utter surprise. "What-why did you do that?"

Ariana smiled sadly. "My darling...it is time I tell you a story..."

Baraz sat back in her chair and listened as her mother told her of her past, a past she knew from beginning to end. She gasped when her mother explained that some things should not have happened but that her presence had altered the timeline in a way that could never be ever mended. And that the book she had just put to death was proof that some things had yet to pass. And could not be altered.

Baraz put her comb to the side, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Some things have yet to pass? Some things concerning us, Mother?"

Ariana nodded, her eyes going to the remnants of the book still burning. "Concerning everyone in Middle-Earth, darling..." She then gazed back at her daughter, a wicked grin appearing on her lips, one of such neither Baraz nor her father ever saw anymore. "And I know you will want to be part of it..."

* * *

><p>There was a silence, and then Ariana sat straighter, moaning a little as a pain in her back made itself known, and her stare was more serious, more solemn, than what it had been prior to that moment.<p>

"Baraz, my darling, my little flower..." she smiled softly, but with a definite hint of sadness behind it too, "time will soon come when I am not part of this world anymore." Baraz opened her mouth as if to speak, but her mother raised a finger to silence her. "It is alright. I have lived a full and adventurous life, I have loved, I have lived, and I regret nothing. But I soon will not be there to counsel either you or your father..." She gazed into the fire again, but her gaze was far off, as if picturing another place, another time, maybe... "In a few years time, Uncle Bilbo will leave the Shire. And I want you and your father to leave with him."

"What?" Baraz stood and went to kneel before her mother, her hands encompassing one of Ariana's. "How do you know such things?"

"I know because it is fate. And fate is never to be trifled with." She placed her second hand on top of Baraz'. "Listen to me very carefully, my darling. When Uncle Bilbo decides to leave Hobbiton and to go visit Erebor one last time, go with him. Protect him. Go and visit your Uncle Kíli. For me."

Baraz stared at her mother, fear making its way in her so-juvenile eyes. "What is going to happen, Mother?"

"I can't tell you. But promise me. Promise me, my darling. Promise me that you will follow Bilbo."

Baraz nodded. "I promise."

Ariana closed her eyes, a sigh of relief leaving her tired body, and she leaned down to kiss her daughter's forehead. They remained this way for a long moment, before one last demand left the human's lips. "And when the time comes...don't follow Frodo..."

Baraz didn't ask her why she could not follow a boy who was merely 19 at the time. It seemed too important...

And so it was.


	2. 1, A long-expected party

_A/N: Today I will offer you two chapters, so you can get acquainted with the characters and such. I do hope you like it! :)_

* * *

><p><em><strong><em><span>Disclaimer:<span> Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Fìli, son of Kìli and some secundary characters._**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Playlist for this chapter:<em>**_ Concerning Hobbits from the The Fellowship of the Ring OST; Old friends from the An unexpected journey OST; Flaming red hair from the TFOTR OST._

* * *

><p><strong>1. A long-expected party<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>3001 T.A.<strong>_

* * *

><p>It was only eight in the morning on this bright day of September, and Baraz was already up and about, her flaming red hair tied in a bun on her head, her quiver wrapped around her shoulders, her oaken bow in her hand.<p>

She had promised Mistress Ivy that she'd bring one or two wild geese for the feast, and she was up to the challenge.

Ever since her youngest years, she had been keen on using a bow, despite her father's saying that Dwarves preferred iron-made weapons: swords, axes, spears. But she always reminded him that she was not completely a Dwarf, and dismissed him with a kiss on his bearded cheek before she departed for a hunt.

It was the day they had all been waiting for that year. Bilbo Baggins' one-hundred-and-eleventh birthday, and his nephew and heir Frodo Baggins' coming of age at 33.

She herself, at 56, still looked younger than 30 for a normal human, and she had seen many of these fine Hobbits grow into adults, take a wife, and father children. Like Hamfast Gamgee, who was carrying a huge pumpkin to the faire as she passed him on the road. She had known him when he was only an infant, they had almost grown up together, and now, his son Samwise was a fine teenager already keen on gardening.

"Hullo there Miss Baraz!" Hamfast waved at her and she answered with a big smile and a wave of her own.

Before she went into the woods in the West Farthing, she wanted to pay a visit to her Uncle Bilbo. She had a good reason for it. The best of all.

* * *

><p>As she peacefully walked through grass-covered fields and on dirty paths, her fingers went to toy with her pendant: her mother's old necklace, a copy of Nenya, a Ring of power. It was dull and mated now, but it was a token the late Ariana had given her on her death-bed, and it meant something to her only daughter.<p>

Ariana had passed away seven years prior, aged 78. Baraz' father, Bofur, had been inconsolable for years before he accepted to go out of their house again. But even then, the appeals of the Shire didn't seem to reach him anymore, and she knew the time would soon be upon them to leave.

She remembered the promise she made her mother a long time ago. And she would honour that promise she made.

* * *

><p>As she was passing in the middle of the morning market, a small bundle of red-hair flung from behind a bush and assaulted her legs. Baraz laughed openly and wrapped her bowstring around her shoulder to steep and take the little boy in her arms.<p>

"Good morrow, there, Pippin!"

He grinned widely, his little fist opening to reveal a smooth golden rock. He put a finger to his lips and made a shushing noise, and Baraz understood the little trickster had once again been stealing some of Elanor Woodling's collectible rocks.

"Good morning, Miss Baraz! I see Peregrïn is once again bothering you!"

Eglantine, Pippin's mother, was hurrying from the baker's stall, her younger daughter Pervinca following suite.

Baraz chuckled and shook her head, placing a loud kiss on Pippin's chubby cheek. "He could never bother me, don't worry." She set the little one down and pointed at Eglantine's baskets. "Is this for Uncle Bilbo's party?"

The Hobbit nodded cheerfully. "I'm in charge of the baking. And I'm late. Paladin is never there when I need him..." she sighed then shooed her two youngest forward as she greeted Baraz and went her merry way.

Pippin was one of the many children who liked Baraz' company. She was different from the other young women in Hobbiton, and even in Bywater. In fact, most of their fathers told them, in hushed tones, that they had never met someone who resembled her west of Bree. And Bree, as every Hobbit or anyone acquainted with Hobbits knew, was as wild as could be.

But there was one Hobbit in Hobbiton who did not think Bree to be far enough. And it was that Hobbit that Baraz was going to on this sunny and warm morning.

* * *

><p>Bag End was on the opposite hill from Baraz' house, but she always enjoyed walking through the village when she went to Bilbo's home for tea or, as she had done more and more these last summers, to go visit young Frodo.<p>

It was Frodo that she first saw as she climbed the soft slope leading to Bag End. A book under his arm, he had sauntered out of the house, a grin on his lips, and the grin didn't falter when he saw Baraz going his way.

"Miss Baraz! Good morning to you!"

She bowed the head and smiled back. "Good morning Master Frodo, and a merry happy birthday to you! How are you and where are you going this early?"

"Thank you ever so much. I am very well. I am going to the East Farthings...to try and catch Gandalf when he arrives."

Baraz chuckled and nodded. "A very good idea indeed. I will see you tonight, and be sure to save me a dance this time!"

He nodded and sauntered away, his brown locks bouncing on his young head.

Frodo was coming of age that day, and yet Baraz remembered the day he was born quite well. She was 23, and she had gone to visit Bilbo when he jumped out of his door, a letter in hand, and shouted to whomever was listening that his cousin Drogo had fathered a son. On his own birthday! If it wasn't a sign!

And now, he was an adult, and yet, as every other Hobbit, he was shorter than her by a head or so. If she was taller than a Dwarf, she was also shorter than a Man, and it was better not to talk about Elves...

* * *

><p>Bilbo Baggins was standing on his porch as she reached the garden's gate, on which, she noticed as she opened it, had been hung a sign '<em>No acceptance, except on party business<em>'. She chuckled and shook her head. Bilbo was smoking his pipe, forming perfectly round smoke-rings into the air, humming a soft tune she had not heard yet, although he knew many and had invented even more.

"Good morning, Uncle! And happy birthday!"

Bilbo shook off his reverie, and a wide smile appeared on his lips as he saw her climbing the four steps to where he stood. "Poppy! What are you doing here this early, girl?"

He had always called her Poppy as long as she could remember. He hated her given name and thought that, as every other Hobbit child, she ought to have a proper flowery name. And her hair had helped.

Baraz smiled and sat on the small wooden bench next to his standing form. "I am on my way to go hunting, if you want to know. But I thought I'd call on you. See if you were alright... And..." she paused, her eyes darting around to make sure no one was nearby listening, "...and to make sure you still wanted to leave."

It had been decided that, after the party that night, Bilbo, Baraz and Bofur would leave for Erebor. Her and her father's packs were all ready in the hallway, and Bofur had left the house in the break of dawn to go fill their water pouches and to purchase ponies for the journey.

Bilbo sighed, a big puff of smoke erupting from his lips as he did so, and he gestured her to enter the house. As she did, he closed the door behind her and locked it. Bilbo hated unwanted visitors. Ariana had once told her daughter she was certain it was because of a certain night, sixty years prior, when a tall Dwarf named Dwalin almost pillaged his pantry.

"Of course I am still planning to leave!" He walked to his study, Baraz on his heels, and stopped in front of a map he had made out of Ariana's tales and adventures. You could see the Trolls; Rivendell; Goblin-town; Beorn's shack; the Elvenhalls; the ruins of Laketown; New-Dale and the Lonely Mountain. "Ever since your mother told me of those wonderful things she saw...I only wished to see them for myself."

He grabbed a sheath in his old chest, the elven blade showing a little under the leather, and Baraz, who knew Sting by heart, smiled softly at the look of profound nostalgia on her uncle's face.

"If I had gone that day instead of wishing everything to stay the same... If I had gone...I'd have lived a wonderful adventure! But I did not go, and now...now I am old, and stupid." He met her eyes, a mischievous glint in his grey orbs. "But I can assure you that I will be leaving with style!"

Baraz chuckled. "I am certain you will, Uncle..."

He chuckled back then exited the study towards his kitchen. "Come now, Poppy. Let's have a cup of tea before you go killing some poor beast and I am disturbed by unwanted guests..."

* * *

><p>When Baraz went home much later that day, after delivering four wild geese to Mistress Ivy for the feast, her father had come home too and was placing a bowl of water in front of the two ponies haltered in front of their little garden.<p>

Upon seeing his daughter, the Dwarf raised his greying head and shook his everlasting plaits, to which she merely answered with a wicked grin, her tongue in-between her teeth. "You've received a letter. I put it on the kitchen's table."

"Thanks Da." She kissed his cheek as she passed him and entered their little house, hanging her bow and quiver on the rack on her way to the kitchen.

The letter bore the elegant writing of her friend Fíli, son of Kíli, and the royal seal of Erebor. She opened it greedily, for she hadn't heard from Fíli in almost six months.

* * *

><p>'<em>Dearest Baraz,<em>

_I hope you are truthful when you say that you intend to come and live in Erebor later this year. Father and I have not told anyone for the time being in case you change your mind._

_We would like to say however that we would be very happy if you came to live with us indefinitely now that your mother has passed – Mahal praise her soul. We've missed you and your father for too long._

_Kind Daïn and his son Thorin are being ever so boring and commanding with us now that we have settled from the Blue Mountains with Mother. Father thinks he is afraid that he'd take Erebor's throne now that he is older, and that many would follow him. It is true that Daïn is not much liked here. Many a Dwarf and a Man of Dale wished Father had taken the throne when offered, but we are content not to trifle in politics anymore._

_I have met Prince Brand of Dale earlier this week. He is like his father Baïn: tall, broody-looking, but a good Man, and I am sure you will like him. You like everyone anyway. It is most probably your Hobbit side, for I cannot see how anyone with a brain could like to spend time with Gimli._

_He has grown insufferable as of late. His father says that it is because he has not found a bride yet, and when I joked that it was because his beard was not long enough, he threatened me with his axe. Uncle Gloïn didn't say a thing. He is less merry and more grim since we lost contact with Balin and his company._

_I wished you'd send a letter to confirm that you are coming. There are too many things that I have to tell you, and not enough paper to tell it._

_We bid you and your father good health._

_May your beard ever grow longer._

_Fíli, son of Kíli, son of Fenrir._'

* * *

><p>Baraz folded the paper again, a smile grazing her lips.<p>

Fíli had been her confidant ever since they were dwarflings. He was the closest thing she had to a brother, even if his father Kíli seemed keen to see them wed one day.

"What was he writing about?"

Bofur entered the room, wiping his hands clean of the dirt from the outside. He went to put the kettle on the oven, and his questioning eyes went to his daughter again, who shrugged.

"He and Uncle Kíli did not quite believe me when I said we were going."

"Ah..." he chuckled. "It's too good to be true..." another chuckle. "My brother Bombur too could not believe it until I confirmed it a week ago. If they truly don't, it will be a nice surprise when we pass the threshold."

"There is something else." Baraz' brow was furrowed as she recalled Fíli's words. "Apparently, Daïn thinks that Kíli would take the throne now that he is older and has an heir..."

Bofur sighed as he poured two cups of tea. "King Daïn has always been a little paranoid. Some in our company even thought that he only came to Thorin's aid back in the day because he thought he could bring some riches back to the Iron Hills..." He paused. "We will have to be careful if he thinks that. He was never fond of your mother, and I doubt he would be fond of you...especially since you are so close to young Fíli."

Baraz nodded gravely. "Yes, I know..." she sighed into her cup. "I wish we knew what happened to Uncle Balin and Oin and Ori in Moria..."

Bofur nodded gravely, his grey eyes darkening with sadness. "I fear we all know what happened... It's been seven years now without a word..."

"Dear Ori..."

Bofur nodded again, and they quietly sipped their tea, thoughts going to friends that had passed and friends that surely had passed...

* * *

><p>Finally, the sun began to set, and Baraz and her father got out into the evening to go to Bilbo's party, which was held in Hobbiton's biggest field, which held most parties anyway.<p>

Bofur had for the occasion re-plaited his hair properly, and had left his hideous inuit-like hat at home, to his daughter's amusement – her father never got out without that hat, he was almost glued to it. Baraz had plaited her own red hair and had plucked little flowers into it so she looked more Hobbit-like despite her height.

Bilbo was greeting his guests at the white gate raised at the entrance of the field. As was customary in the Shire, the one holding the birthday-party was giving those who turned up little presents – not expensive ones, mind you, poor Bilbo would have been robbed of all his money with the numbers of guests he had invited. So when they reached him, with a wide grin, he reached into a pile of little tokens and handed two to his long-time friends.

Baraz noticed their presents looked better and more expensive than those Bilbo had given the Hobbits before them, but she said nothing as she kissed both his cheeks and pinned the brooch to her white tunic. It was a bird-shaped brooch, and after studying it, Bofur told his daughter it was a thrush, and a reminder of Ariana's adventures. It moved Baraz even more.

Strangely enough, Frodo was nowhere to be seen as they moved through the crowd of Hobbits, almost all of whom were talking about the marvels of the buffet or the wonderful decorations held in the trees or on light-posts.

As they finally reached the buffet for their own, Baraz was accosted by young Samwise Gamgee, son of Hamfast, who asked her with a blush to his pointy ears, if she agreed to a dance later. She did, for she loved to dance.

Bofur smirked at his daughter as he served himself a good part of pork. "If this goes on, you'll soon have all of Hobbiton's younger lads asking for your hand in marriage!"

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Come now, Da. We both know I'll only accept one hand in marriage..." she leaned into him as him telling him a secret. "Pippin's."

He rolled his eyes as well. "Your affection for this little monster is beyond me."

She chuckled and then they moved to a table where they sat with Rosie Ale and her fiancé Solam Oak. Both were very keen in asking Baraz how she could be so tall and if the ceilings in her hobbit-hole were not too low for her head not to bump into. All in all, they had fun.

* * *

><p>Night fell, and the dancing began. Hobbits were well-known for their music and dances, and Baraz, having been raised in this environment, had always loved it. Her father, on the other hand, was not one for this kind of amusement, and decided to retire from the party, officially because he was tired, but really because he had to go fetch the third pony for their trek in the Wild later on. He kissed the top of his daughter's head and made her promise not to accept any marriage proposal in his absence, and he left as swiftly as a thief.<p>

Baraz was soon hoisted up by a couple of the youngest Hobbit girls in the village, and she followed them to the dancefloor where they started a very popular gig Baraz knew by heart. She clapped in her hands, steeped low on her two feet then jumped back into the air, whirling around, looking like what her mother used to call Irish dancers. She had a good laugh, and soon, Frodo joined her wild dancing, wide grins on their faces.

They danced and danced and danced until their feet ached. Samwise claimed his dance, then Baraz claimed one with young Pippin, then one more with Bilbo who, despite his age, was still agile on his two feet.

Then the music stopped, and the air cracked with what everyone had been looking forward to – Gandalf's fireworks.

Baraz had not seen the wizard among the guests yet, although his pointy hat could be seen miles around, but now, she could see his tall and thin figure against the dark sky, his magic staff lighting with sparks as he lit the first firework. And like any other that night, she started cheering in excitement.

Gandalf's fireworks were renown in all of the Shire, and most people didn't know he was also an Istar, one of the greatest magical creatures in Middle-Earth. Of course, Baraz knew that. She had known the wizard for years, and his kindness and devastating humour was nothing compared to the power he held. Gandalf the Grey, he was called, and Baraz knew his cousin, Radagast the Brown, if only by name because her mother had met him on the eve of the Battle of Five Armies.

Tonight was one of the nights where the fireworks were magnificent. Butterflies and flowers and whistling birds took shape before exploding in a thousand of lights up up in the sky, and finally, for the finale, a blazing dragon came down from the sky, and before it could strike the ground where all of Hobbiton stood, it flew away and formed the most beautiful of all the fireworks.

* * *

><p>Baraz walked to the wizard after the show, her smile visible in the light of night for it was wide.<p>

Gandalf, upon seeing her, mirrored her smile. "Baraz, my dear girl! I didn't see you here!" He walked to her and placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder, before his grey eyes darted on the crowd before him. "Where's Bofur?"

"Oh, Da left a little while ago. He was tired..." she lowered her voice, "and wanted to make sure everything was ready for our departure tonight."

Gandalf nodded, his smile fading a bit. "Yes yes... I dare say I was relieved when Bilbo told me you'd go with him. But you don't have to if you don't want to... I know how fond of the Shire you are..."

Baraz nodded, her eyes going to the surrounding hills, her heart panging in her chest as she realised she was perhaps gazing upon them for the last time. "Yes, I am very fond of the Shire... But my place is not here. Neither is my father's. We are going back to Erebor and to our family." She tried a smile that felt false. "That was Mother's wish."

"Ah, Ariana..." Gandalf's eyes lost their focus as if he was picturing his late friend, "she knew a great deal more than any of us about everything...and I never knew why..."

"Neither did I. But I trust she knew what she was doing when she asked us to accompany Uncle Bilbo on his quest."

"Yes, I trust she did." He paused and smiled down at her, this time more merrily. "Come now, Baraz, let's go and listen to good old Bilbo's speech!"

She smiled back and walked beside the tall wizard as they went back to the feast.

* * *

><p>Bilbo had already climbed onto a barrel of ale, and upon seeing that Gandalf and Baraz had finally joined the party, he raised his hand, and the crowd grew silent in expectation. Bilbo's speeches were always the talk of Hobbiton, for he could easily play with words and make everyone laugh.<p>

"My dear People..." some shouted 'Hear! Hear!' at that. "My dear Bagginses and Boffins, and my dear Tooks and Brandybucks, and Grubbs, and Chubbs, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers, and Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots." 'Proudfeet' shouted the elderly of said family, and everyone laughed. "Proudfoots" Bilbo said again. "Also my good Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag End. Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday! Am eleventy-one today!" Everyone cheered at that, and Baraz laughed as she saw Lobelia Sackville-Baggins glare openly at her cousin, in ever hope that he'd die and leave her all his wealth in inheritance – that would never happen anyway. "I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am. I shall not keep you long. I have called you all together for a Purpose. Indeed, for Three Purposes! First of all, to tell you that I am immensely fond of all of you, and that eleventy-one years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

Baraz chuckled at the confused faces among the crowd, and she exchanged an amused glance with Gandalf who was chuckling too.

"Secondly, to celebrate my birthday. I should say: OUR birthday. For it is, of course, also the birthday of my heir and nephew, Frodo. He comes of age and into his inheritance today." There was general shout of 'Frodo!' in the assistance and, once again, Baraz noticed Lobelia's glare, this time directed at everyone who was cheering her loss of money for her old days. "Together we score one hundred and forty-four. Your numbers were chosen to fit this remarkable total: One Gross, if I may use the expression. Thirdly and finally, I wish to make an ANNOUNCEMENT. I regret to announce that – though, as I said, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to spend among you – this is the END. I am going. I am leaving NOW. GOODBYE!"

There was a huge and common gasp among the assistance when Bilbo rightly vanished after that, and many a Hobbit shouted in fear and started fussing about, talking about 'sorcery' and 'things unnatural that should not be'.

Baraz and Gandalf exchanged a meaningful glance again, and the wizard sighed. "Go and fetch your father, Baraz dear. I will go talk to this idiot of a Hobbit."

She nodded and hurried away and towards her soon-to-be former house, thinking that, as he had told her that morning, Bilbo surely went out with style...

* * *

><p>Bofur and his daughter left their hobbit-hole as swiftly as dwarves can do these things, and drove the ponies away into the dead of night and to where they had agreed to meet Bilbo – further up the road and into the farming-fields, where the ponies' forms would be hidden by the size of the crops.<p>

Baraz had felt extremely sad as she closed their house's door for the last time it seemed. Her father hugged her briefly, but she knew he didn't feel as nostalgic as her. He belonged in the halls and mines of Erebor, not in a hobbit-hole.

For all her sadness, Baraz felt extremely content to leave on another adventure. It had been years since she had last visited Erebor, and even then, she had not gone for an indefinite stay. And they had surely not stayed in Rivendell either, while Bilbo wanted adamantly to meet the Elves Ariana had been so fond of.

So Baraz would meet the Master Elrond for the first time. She was as excited as could be.

* * *

><p>It was very late and very close to three in the morning when they finally heard the distinct clap of a walking-stick on the rocks of the path and the humming of a song Baraz knew had been invented by her uncle. And so he stepped out into their sight, and stopped humming his song as he smiled.<p>

It struck Baraz that he looked very much younger, as if leaving Hobbiton had lifted a weight off his shoulders.

"Ah, my dear friends! Now we are off on our little adventure!"

Bofur helped him up his pony and explained the basics of riding, then he took the lead and all three rode off into the night and towards Bree, their first stop.

As they hurried away from Hobbiton, Baraz glanced over her shoulder one last time, and then she joined in Bilbo's song. One that spoke of adventures and paths ahead.

_The road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_And I must follow if I can,_

_Pursuing it with eager feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say._


	3. 2, The road to Rivendell

_A/N: Aaaaaand we're back! I would like to thank those who have already put this on alert and favourites. Enjoy this new chapter, it features one of my favourite characters EVER! :)_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong><em>Disclaimer:<em>****_ Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Fìli, son of Kìli and some secundary characters._**_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Playlist for this chapter:<strong> The adventure begins; The world is ahead; Roast mutton; The hidden valley from the An unexpected journey OST._

* * *

><p><strong>2. The road to Rivendell<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>3001 T.A.<strong>_

* * *

><p>The journey proved to take far longer than what would have been expected.<p>

After their stay in the _Prancing Pony_ in Bree, Bilbo began to feel more tired, more restless, and with the deterioration of his health came the slowing down of their advance.

Baraz and Bofur immediately realised after that first night that Bilbo had seemingly aged a great deal. His hair was beginning to turn white, wrinkles were engraving themselves on his face, his breathing became uneven, and his sight was getting poorer.

All of this worried Baraz a great deal, for she had no idea what had provoked these symptoms or this sudden old age when, a day prior, Bilbo had been as young as a seventy-years-old hobbit.

It was decided after four days of travels and when it began certain that they would not reach Rivendell at that speed without meeting the many creatures and thieves of the East-Road, that Bofur would ride ahead, since he knew the way – he had been there twice after all – and that he'd ask Master Elrond for help.

So he left his daughter and friend alone on the road and rode ahead as fast as his pony could manage. But even then, he'd take him days, perhaps a whole week, to reach Rivendell.

* * *

><p>Baraz's eyes were darting to her uncle every pace or so. Some time soon, he would not be able to sit on his saddle without help, and she felt ever so worried by that fact.<p>

When she asked him if it would not be wiser to go back or to alter their course to go on a straighter path to the Elves, though, Bilbo proved to be himself enough to refuse vehemently.

"No", he said, "I want to see the Trolls before we reach Rivendell!"

And Baraz knew nothing could change his mind...

* * *

><p>That evening, while Baraz was boiling some water to make a stew, Bilbo sat on a fallen log, his eyes to the skies. She studied him for a moment, the way he observed the stars above his head; stars that he had placed countless times on his star-maps. The look of nostalgia on his face, of almost sadness, sent a pang of hurt to her heart.<p>

She was in the middle of her preparation when he spoke up. "Poppy, can I ask you something?"

She nodded, her eyes not leaving the pot where she plunged some carrots. "Of course you can, Uncle."

She met his eyes that were suddenly twinkling with excitement. "How is Rivendell? What does it look like? Is there a river, or a lake? Perhaps a waterfall? And how are the Elves?"

Baraz chuckled at his incessant questions. All Hobbits loved the Elves, it was a constant, but no one loved them more than Bilbo Baggins. He had never seen one in his life, but to him as to everyone else, they were like angels. But she could not help much regarding this. "I'm afraid I don't know, Uncle. I've never been to Rivendell..."

Bilbo huffed. "Poppy! You have gone to Erebor every five years or so with your father every since you were a little dwarfling! You cannot possibly tell me you have never stopped by Rivendell!"

She sighed, plunging her spoon in the stew to taste it. It needed a little more salt. "I am sorry to say that I can... Da never really liked the Elves. He didn't want to owe them anything. So we passed close to the Hidden Valley, but never entered it. Although Ma told me some things..."

Bilbo didn't say a word, but his eyes and the way he had suddenly crossed his hands in his lap urged her forward.

She smiled to herself. "She said that Rivendell is more beautiful than any other place in Middle-Earth. That the pillars are covered in ivy, that the water runs under and over paths, that there are flowers everywhere and that it scarcely rains at all... She also said that the Lord Elrond and his daughter Arwen Ûndomiel are two of the kindest people she ever met."

Bilbo smiled widely. "I long to meet them. Do you think they are fond of songs?" Baraz shrugged. "I am composing one for them as we speak. I hope they like it..."

She chuckled. "I am sure they will, Uncle, but for now, let's eat and sleep..."

Although she knew that while _he_ slept, she'd keep her two eyes open...

* * *

><p>The following days grew to be much the same, with the exception of Bilbo being even more tired. He needed break from the saddle every two hours or so, and Baraz, despite her legendary patience, had started to feel like she'd ride ahead and wait for him to catch up eventually. But she would not do that. Because they were slowly entering the Wild, and she knew all-too-well the dangers that lied ahead...<p>

Five days after Bofur had left them alone, they reached the troll hoard and the three statues now standing guard a few yards in front of it.

The trolls had long since been covered in moss and ivy for time was not kind to all things that didn't move, but you could still see the way they were stooping as if reaching for something – or someone – within their sight.

Baraz hadn't visited this place in more than a decade, and as she put her hand to the stone, Bilbo came to stand by her, his hair even whiter, more and more wrinkles on his face.

"Your mother told me how she was lucky the sun rose before they caught her..."

Baraz nodded. "Yes... And Da also told me no one within their group ever understood how she had known there was a troll hoard nearby, for their camp was at least an hour away..."

"Miss Ari was always a mystery..." Bilbo smiled kindly and circled the trolls, as if committing them to memory, before his eyes turned to the cave ahead. "Would you agree to a little exploring?"

She shrugged, made sure the ponies were altered, and followed him towards the hoard.

* * *

><p>The smell was still awful even so long after the trolls' death, and many flies buzzed around in a stomach-turning trance around the entrance.<p>

Bilbo didn't seem at all disturbed by all this and strolled inside humming to himself while Baraz' nose turned up in disgust and she followed, her bow in hand just in case.

Strangely enough, the cave was lit by some kind of magical torches with what seemed like never-ending fire lighting it. In other circumstances, Baraz would have thought the place to be occupied, but there were no signs of life either inside or outside of the hoard. It had been deserted a long time prior, and she was not at all against that fact.

Bilbo stopped in front of a small crate near the entrance and she stood next to him as he opened it with a look of greed on his face that she had never seen before. "You never know what kind of riches you can find in a small crate like this one..." He opened the lid, revealing thousands of golden coins, ancient coins with some elvish or dwarvish runes engraved on it. There were also rubies and sapphires, gems and thin bracelets of gold.

The hobbit flew from crate to crate, from corner to corner, as if he was looking for something in particular. Under his breath, he was muttering non-sense like 'I'm sure there is one here... It can't have been the only ring about...' but Baraz was too taken by the sounds around to pay real attention.

* * *

><p>There was a sudden commotion outside, a rushing of leaves, a cracking of twigs and some yells as if there was hunt nearby.<p>

Baraz drew her bow and looked at Bilbo who was still searching for something in the trolls' treasure. "Stay here, Uncle. Do not move." He hummed a vague answer, and she moved towards the entrance of the cave, an arrow notched.

There was definitely a hunt going on. She could hear the hooves of at least a dozen horses nearby and the yells of several species, both hunters and hunted, as they grew nearer. She raised her bow and waited, her figure hidden in the shadows of the steeping stone.

Several figures erupted from the woods to her left. She gasped at what she saw, for if she had never seen these creatures for real and in the break of day, she surely knew what they were. "Goblins! So far from the Mountains?" In her astonishment, she did not shoot her arrow, and instead started to think. Why would these creatures, that hated the light of day, travel so far from their caves?

She received her answer not a second later. Her bow lifted again, she watched as the dozen horses she had heard before erupted into the clearing as well, and on them, Elves.

They were drawing their own bows, except perhaps three who had long curved swords in their hands. They all mounted without a saddle, which struck Baraz as perilous.

One raised his hand as he spotted the two altered ponies, and two stopped by his side while the others continued their hunt.

She heard a vague order from the male who seemed to be the leader, then all three dismounted and went to the ponies to examine them and the bags they carried. She pondered. She had always been told by her mother that the Elves were her friends, and so far she had always believed her words, but now...with those studying her bags and all the things she and Bilbo carried with them...she wanted to shoo them away. Her dwarf blood was making itself known in the least opportune moment...

* * *

><p>"<em>Ya naa tanya?<em>" _**Who is that?**_

Baraz lowered her bow as the three figures moved her way, the leader stopping for a second when he saw her standing there. He nodded to his companions and all lowered their weapons as well – bows for the two brown-haired warriors, and a sword for the golden-haired leader.

She bowed her head in greeting. "Good morrow to you, Elves."

The leader stopped in front of her and it struck her how small she was next to the Tall Kin. He studied her and her attire for a moment, then bowed his head back. "_Pernogoth._"

Baraz tilted her head to the side for she did not understand what his word meant, but now was not the time for questions. "I am Baraz of the Shire. Nice meeting you."

"Baraz of the Shire?" the leader's grey eyes widened. "Peculiar. _Mae govannen_ Baraz. My name is Glorfindel. I come from Imladris."

Her mouth opened a little in surprise. "We are heading to Imladris!"

"We?" his eyes darted behind her and his ears surely caught on the sound of Bilbo's padding feet as he came back towards the entrance. "Who is your companion?"

"Bilbo Baggins of Hobbiton, my...uncle."

The three Elves shared a glance, but were they pondering about their said relation or about Bilbo's name, she did not know.

Glorfindel then smiled kindly. "It would be our pleasure to escort you to the valley, Baraz of the Shire. My companions and I have been hunting down some goblins who attacked some of our people near the Bruinen, but I grow tired of it. Some light company would be welcome."

Baraz smiled back and bowed her head in thanks. "It would be most welcome on our side too, Glorfindel of Imladris." Bilbo then appeared behind her and gasped, but remained silent as he surely studied the three first Elves he saw in his life. "My father Bofur rode ahead of us a little less than a week ago. Perhaps you have seen him?"

"Yes, we have, although he did not stop to ask for assistance. A dwarf is very scarcely seen near the valley... Very scarcely indeed..." His brow furrowed as if he was trying to understand Bofur's presence in the Hidden Valley, but then he smiled again. "Shall we ride, then?"

Baraz nodded, then her eyes went to Bilbo. She looked at him in worry. "Uncle Bilbo?" his eyes went to her, and she saw he was still stunned at the Elves' appearance. "Are you strong enough to ride on your own or do you want to ride with someone else?"

Glorfindel whirled around from where he had been caressing his horse's mane, and he cleared his throat. "Is your friend ill?"

"Not ill, old... An illness that takes us all mortals." She chuckled darkly. "His health has been deteriorating since we left the Shire, and I will be happy to see Lord Elrond to enquire on the reason for this sudden weakness." She paused. "Would you mind riding with him?"

The Elf smiled and chuckled, the sound clear like chiming bells. "I will with great pleasure!" He gestured Bilbo forward until the Hobbit stood beside his horse, looking not much taller than a child, and he hoisted him onto the horse's back before climbing swiftly behind him. "This is Asfaloth, my most faithful companion. He will not let you fall."

* * *

><p>The journey was easier with the Elves as companions. Although it was not quicker, for Baraz and her two ponies walked slower than Asfaloth and the other two horses the Elves rode. But none of their companions seemed to mind.<p>

Bilbo had found his tongue a little while after they left the trolls' cave, and Glorfindel answered his incessant questions with many smiles and a patience Baraz would not have had in the same circumstances. The Elf was truly a great companion for the road, for he knew short-cuts and safe passages through the Wild, and was also fond of stories and of the other kins of Middle-Earth. He didn't say if he had met Hobbits before, but Baraz guessed he had not seen many, for he too questioned Bilbo on many occurrences and seemed particularly curious to learn about the _peredhili_'s customs.

That evening, they ate a piece of elven bread. Baraz knew the Elves didn't eat the meat they hunted. When they chose to kill an animal, it was for another reason than sustenance. They killed the ill, the weak, or when a species was too numerous for a given area. They acted as animal-lovers, not as animal-eaters.

It was a first for her – and for Bilbo of course – to try elvish food. Glorfindel was quick in explaining that the bread – _lambas_ bread he called it – had been made for long journeys or times of low food-supplies, for it could properly feed an adult Elf for an entire day. Although apparently, it did not have the same effect on Hobbits, for Bilbo asked for a second piece. But then again, Hobbits ate almost every hour or so, so it was understandable.

Baraz, on the other side, was quite full after her piece, and thought the bread practical for long periods of riding indeed. But she swore not to tell anyone in Erebor, for Dwarves there hated Elves with a passion. A passion she had never shared, but that should have been her human half.

* * *

><p>When the sun set and the Elves lit a proper fire for the night, one of the two brown-haired males took a thin and elegant flute from one of his pockets and started to play a tune.<p>

Baraz, whose father was also playing the flute, could not help but noticing how the sound was purer, more musical than that of Bofur's old polished flute. The music the Elf played was so pure than it seemed as if the nature itself accommodated it. Grasshoppers stopped their own music to listen, and the wind blew more softly. The stars even seemed to shine stronger.

Bilbo's eyes were as wide as tea-cups as he stared at the Elf, and he was shifting his weight to the tune, his lips moving in silence as if he was trying to put words to the song.

Glorfindel was lying on his back and was gazing at the sky, his eyes far off. The third Elf was sitting on a rock nearby, surely to take the first watch, and was humming the song to himself.

And very slowly, Baraz felt her eyes close and fatigue take over her. She had not slept in several days, and the Elf's tune seemed to lull her to sleep. So she lied down in her bedroll and closed her eyes onto dreams of streams and deers and falling leaves...

* * *

><p>It took the little group a little more than three days to rally the Bruinen, the river that flowed at the entrance of the Hidden Valley. When they reached the bridge over the gentle water, several Elves got out of bushes and barred their way.<p>

They all stopped in front of Glorfindel's horse. Baraz noticed their brown hair and fair eyes, and when she glanced at their guide again, she wondered what kind of Elf he was, for his features were completely different.

"_Glorfindel. Cormamin lindua ele lle._" said one of the guards. _**My heart sings to see you. **_"_Manke nae lle?_" _**Where were you?**_

"_Lye carfarad Glamhoth mì Numen Imladrisin._" _**We were hunting Goblins West of here.**_

The Elf nodded then he glanced at Bilbo, sitting in front of Glorfindel on his horse, and at Baraz who kept her gaze low just in case. Her father had told her that sometimes even the most innocent of stares could be misinterpreted. "_Ya naa ron?_" _**Who are they?**_

"_Baraz i Drannin. Ar Bilbo, i Drannin._" _**Baraz of the Shire. And Bilbo of the Shire.**_

The Elf looked at Baraz more closely. "_Peredhili?_" _**Halflings?**_

Glorfindel shook his head and looked at Baraz who met his amused glance. "_Pernogoth._"

Her brow furrowed for she still did not understand that word. But the Elves around gasped and their eyes widened as they looked at her, and then, they let them pass, muttering some questions under their breath, so low she could not make their words...

They dismounted as they got closer to the city, and Baraz could hear Elves singing in the trees and on the river banks, and those songs filled her with joy and happiness.

She walked faster to catch up with their guide, and cleared her throat. "Glorfindel, may I ask you something?"

The Elf glanced down at her and nodded. "Of course you can, Baraz of the Shire."

She paused to try and find her words, but she thought it best to just ask without rounding the subject. "What does '_pernogoth'_ mean?"

Glorfindel's grey eyes lit and he smiled widely. "I knew you understood us. Although how you came to understand Sindarin is still a mystery that I hope to resolve one day." he shared a smile with her. "_Pernogoth_ is what you are."

"And what am I?"

"A Half-Dwarf. Which, if I may say so, if very rare. Almost never spoken of."

Baraz sighed and nodded. "Yes, some of my oldest friends told me how rare these half-breeds are. So I am a _pernogoth_." Glorfindel nodded. "That's a new word to add to my list."

He opened his mouth as if to ask her how she came by such a list, but decided otherwise, and the rest of the journey was spent in silence, if you counted out the songs that could still be heard on both sides of the path.

* * *

><p>At last they arrived in sight of Rivendell, and Baraz' eyes widened as she took the city in. What her mother had told her was far from the truth. The beauty of the columns and of the sculptures, and of the overall feeling once you'd set eyes on it – everything was an understatement. She felt content and utterly peaceful as she gazed at the pure lines of the soft wood they had used to build it – if it had been built at all, for it seemed as if it was part of the nature in itself.<p>

They were walking towards a bridge, and on the other side stood a tall brown-haired Elf with a thin mithril crown on his head – Baraz knew it was mithril for everyone in her father's kin knew what it looked like at first sight. He opened his arms and a soft smile appeared on his lips as they stopped in front of him.

"Welcome to Imladris! I am Lord Elrond, your host."

Behind the Elf, Baraz noticed a female with jet-black hair standing on top of a staircase, beside whom stood her father. She smiled at her host.

"_Diola lle_, Master Elrond." _**Thank you.**_

And no one even took time to ask how she knew the words...


	4. 3, An unexpected long stay

_A/N: Hello back everyone and thanks to those who have put alerts on this since the last time I posted. :) As I said before, it really is hard to update more than once or twice a month, but I'll do my best, I promise. For now, Baraz, Bilbo and Bofur have reached Rivendell, and are going to stay a bit. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong><em>Disclaimer:<em>****_ Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Fìli, son of Kìli and some secundary characters._**_

* * *

><p><span><strong><em>Playlist for the chapter:<em>**_ The hidden valley; Moon runes; Misty mountains cold (Neil Finn) from the An unexpected journey OST._

* * *

><p><strong>3. An unexpected long stay<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>3001 T.A.<strong>_

* * *

><p>Master Elrond walked to his new guests and placed a hand on each' shoulder with a wide smile that highlighted his grey eyes. "Baraz, daughter of Ariana, and Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. You are most welcome."<p>

It struck Baraz in that moment that the Elf had indeed known her mother, for he acted very familiar with both her daughter and her long-time friend. Had Ariana sent letters to Elrond during her years in Hobbiton, or was his power of foresight so strong that he had seen some things, she'd never know.

"Come now, you must be famished." He placed himself behind the two smaller people and gently pushed them towards the staircase. They climbed the stony stairs in silence, and Baraz watched as the woman's smile widened as her fair eyes settled on her.

When they reached her, she bowed her head. "I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond. It is very nice to meet you."

Baraz's eyes widened a notch. So this was the Evenstar. The Elf that had helped her mother dress and pass through Rivendell's halls on her first stay. She liked her already.

Bilbo grinned widely and bowed his head while taking her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles. He was so small beside her that he didn't even have to arch his back to reach her white fingers. "You are a vision, Madam."

Arwen chuckled, the sound again similar to the chiming of bells. "I am not certain you have seen many Elf maidens in your life, Master Hobbit, but I accept the compliment with gratitude. Will you accompany me to the dining hall?" She offered him her hand, and he dazingly accepted it. They strode away, Arwen's paces slow and graceful, her dress flowing behind her as if it was made of wind.

Elrond bowed the head as he passed Baraz and Bofur, who had remained there, and he and Glorfindel guided them throughout the maze of Rivendell's halls.

* * *

><p>Bofur tugged on his daughter's arm so she leaned down to listen to what he had to tell her.<p>

"Has anything of importance happened?"

She nodded. "The Elves were hunting down goblins. According to Glorfindel, they had attacked some of their kin." Her brow furrowed. "Since when do goblins come down so far from their mountain?"

Bofur gritted his teeth. "I do not know, but that worries me."

"What about you, Da? Has anything happened to you on your journey?"

"No. But the sooner we leave here, the better."

Baraz smiled knowingly. "You have stayed here twice already. Why don't you appreciate Lord Elrond's hospitality?"

Bofur's eyes met hers gravely. "It is not in my nature to appreciate the Elves' company. Last time, I was with your mother; and the time before that, with my companions." He paused, then sighed. "There are people here that can see in your head. I do not like them."

Baraz knew he was talking about Lord Elrond and his mother-in-law, the Lady Galadriel, whom she had heard about many times from her mother Ariana. She was so powerful she could talk in your mind and see your thoughts. But as far as she knew, the Lady Galadriel resided in Loríen.

* * *

><p>Baraz' and Bilbo's journey had taken some time, and when they reached Rivendell, it was already the middle of October. The leaves on the trees were becoming yellow or brown, but even then, it seemed that they would not fall until much later. The Elves' magic seemed to even slow down time.<p>

The air itself didn't feel cold or windy as it should have been and as it had been on the East Road. Instead, it was warm, almost as warm as in summer, and Baraz doubted it ever rained in Rivendell, for the city's halls lacked roofs. And such art as their benches or feathery cushions would not survive a heavy rain, she was certain of it.

While they crossed a good part of the city, they met with other Elves, of both sexes, but not many Elf children. Baraz knew, of course, that the Tall Kin had some trouble fathering, but she still had hoped to meet some younger souls. She was so used to Hobbiton's many hobbitlings...

"Your thoughts are elsewhere..."

She looked to the side at her father who looked grumpier than ever, which would have been funny if it hadn't also been a rare occurrence. She nodded. "I was wondering why there aren't many children here."

He gritted his teeth. "They don't need that. They're immortal."

She rolled her eyes, but knew better than to answer. It would not do any good.

* * *

><p>Finally they reach a round pavilion on the centre of which stood a long wooden table.<p>

Master Elrond placed his two new guests on his left and right, with Bofur next to his daughter and Arwen next to Bilbo. Glorfindel and two other Elves Baraz hadn't seen yet completed the table.

Elrond soon gestured to the two males. "May I present you my sons, Elrohir and Elladan." Both bowed their heads in respect and Baraz and Bilbo did the same. Now that she knew they were his sons, Baraz could see the resemblance. They were both brown-haired and held the high-cheekbones of their kin. Both had green eyes.

The diner consisted, to Baraz non-surprise, in a wide choice of salads with various vegetables. She knew, of course, after her frugal meal with Glorfindel and his companions in the Wild, that the Elves never ate meat, for meat was after all an animal and that they respected all kind of life-forms. They did, however, indulge in milk. But not in eggs.

"I do hope you will not miss your many meals now that you are here." Arwen was addressing Bilbo with a gentle smile. "I do know your kin likes their food opulent."

Bilbo smiled widely. "Oh, I do not mind at all! In fact, my nephew Frodo often tells me I must lose some weight around the middle..." he chuckled.

Baraz chuckled too. "He's not the only one to tell you so, Uncle."

Bilbo sent her a hard glance but as Arwen and Elrond both joined in the laughter, he did not say anything.

Glorfindel, on the other side, raised his fair head after her intervention. "I am sorry if I seem impertinent, but I have to ask..." he paused, waiting for Baraz to look at him. "How can it be that a Hobbit is your uncle?"

Baraz opened her mouth to answer, but Bilbo beat her to it. "Oh, she is not, so to speak, my niece, but see...her mother was a good friend of mine. A very good friend of mine, in fact. One day, she arrived with her husband-" he pointed at Bofur who had his head down in his plate, obviously uncomfortable, "-and pregnant with their child. She asked me if they could stay for a while, and then she gave birth to little Poppy here." he smiled softly at her. "I took a shine to her immediately. Then Miss Ari decided to stay indefinitely and I found them a hobbit-hole to live in." he opened his arms as if to conclude. "And so she was raised among my people. And has taken to call me 'Uncle' ever since she could speak. But truth be told, I love her as if she was of my own kin!"

Baraz smiled as him and placed a hand on her heart to signify her emotion after such a speech.

Elrond then looked at her, placing a hand on hers on the table. "So you were raised among the Halflings?"

She nodded. "I visited my father's kin from time to time, of course, but time, in fact, passes slower for a Dwarf, so it never feels too long between two visits."

Bofur then cleared his throat. "My wife was...she was...well...she preferred the Shire to Erebor. Too many bad memories."

Baraz nodded sadly, and Arwen, across the table, shared their saddened gazes. "Ariana talked to me about her fears when she came back from the Lonely Mountain." Baraz met her gaze. "She was so sad to have lost some companions..."

Elrond spoke up again. "I wonder. How fares your friend?" he was talking to Bofur this time, who seemed surprised and a little taken aback. "I believe his name was Kíli?"

Bofur cleared his throat. "Kíli is very well... He...he..uh..."

"He got married in the Blue Mountains and fathered a son, Fíli." Baraz continued for her father. "He now lives in Erebor with his uncle's family."

Elrond nodded. "I am glad, for last time we saw him, he was in a dark place."

Arwen's brow furrowed. "He had just lost his brother and his uncle, _Arda_. It is all understandable."

"Indeed it is. So let's not dwell on bad memories, as our _Hadhog_ friend said. Let's eat, and play music."

Bilbo clapped in his hands at that, and diner resumed.

* * *

><p>When the sun began to set, all guests were guided to a beautiful room with chairs, couches and a huge fireplace that was already cracking with life.<p>

Many an Elf had brought an instrument with him or her, and soft tunes could be heard in the quietness of the room.

Lord Elrond had sat himself next to Baraz and her father, who had taken out his flute and was too playing a soft tune, to his daughter's surprise. But then, she knew music was universal. The tall Elf had his eyes closed, as if he was revelling in the peace of the setting, and she did the same for a while. Time seemed to stand still. The only clue to its passing was the ending of tunes and the beginnings of others.

"Can I ask you something, Miss Baraz?"

She opened her eyes and met Arwen's across the room. She was tending to a embroidery, her deft fingers playing with the needle and the thread in a precise manner. She nodded her consent.

"Where do you feel more at home?"

The question took her aback, for she had never really thought about such things. For her, home was where her parents were. Sometimes Hobbiton, some other times Erebor. But _feeling at home_ was never something that had seemed important. Until now.

"I do not know how to answer."

Arwen smiled knowingly. "Such is the problem for people that do not live in the same place all the time." Under Baraz' scrutiny, she continued. "I myself live sometimes here, and sometimes with my grandmother. Yet both places seem like home."

Baraz nodded. "Yes, I do feel the same. Although..." she glanced at her father who seemed engrossed in conversation with Bilbo and did not pay attention to her, "although I do prefer Hobbiton, its gardens, its people, its joy, rather than Erebor's cold halls. And I have more friends among Hobbits than I do among Dwarves."

Arwen's brow furrowed, but she did not voice her question. Instead, she placed her work to the side, and hailed Bilbo. "Master Baggins?" The Halfling looked at her with wide eyes, surely wondering why she was talking to him all of a sudden. "I came to believe you are fond of songs?"

He smiled. "I am, my lady. I do write some too. In fact, if I may be so bold...I have written one for this occasion particularly."

Arwen smiled, and Baraz knew in that moment that she had known all along and had chosen that particular moment to ask. "Please. We do long to hear it."

Bilbo smiled wider even, and all instruments stopped playing. Although they all kept their instruments ready, Bofur included. Baraz knew that her father, and certainly the Elves too, would join in the tune once they got the hang of it. Such was the gift of musicians.

The Hobbit stood, but his little height was not much imposing, and placed himself in the middle of the room. He then cleared his throat and began his song:

_Such was the Elven kin_

_That their city was so bright_

_And so beautiful that time stood still_

_Their eyes were fair and their hair made of ore_

_And no one was wiser than their Lord_

_The Lord Elrond, the Half-Elf_

_Whose fathers were kin to Luthien the Fair._

There was many an applause, and the Elves immediately asked for another song, for Bilbo's voice was their pleasure. They asked for a song that came from the Shire, and the Hobbit asked for a moment to choose the right one.

Arwen then stood and excused herself. "I ask you to forgive me, for I feel a little tired. I am certain that Master Bilbo will do me the honour to sing me those songs tomorrow. Miss Baraz, would you accompany me?"

Baraz knew she had been waiting for that opportunity ever since their little talk, and she stood too and excused herself as well. "I will, for I too am weary, and besides, I know each and every of Uncle Bilbo's songs." She kissed her father's brow and followed the Elf maiden.

* * *

><p>Baraz followed Arwen through a maze of halls and ivy-covered corridors and towards the sleeping quarters.<p>

She stopped in front of a door that was just on the outside of a little courtyard with a fountain. She opened the door onto a beautifully decorated room with a little bed, just the proper size for her. She then smiled down at her guest. "It was your mother's when she first came here. I thought it'd suit you."

Baraz smiled back and entered the room, revelling in the paintings on the walls – all of flowers she had never seen before – and on the balcony that gave onto the waterfall over the city – but that strangely didn't make any noise at all. "I am touched, thank you."

Arwen walked to the wardrobe on one side of the room and opened it, taking a light tunic made of white silk that she placed on the bed. "This is for sleeping in."

Baraz looked at the garment than at her host. "I really am thankful for everything that you've done. For me, but also for my father and, some time ago, for my mother."

Arwen smiled and sat on the bed, silently inviting her to do the same.

There was a quiet silence when both women sat next to each other and glanced through the open doors and onto the waterfall beyond.

Then Baraz glanced up at the Elf once more. "How was she? When she came back from the Mountain?"

Arwen didn't meet her gaze, instead lowered hers on her folded hands in her lap. "She was as should be expected when you see someone you love die to save your life..." She then looked at her, sadness embedded in her soft gaze. "Has she ever told you what happened?"

Baraz shook her head. "She never wanted to talk about the Battle in itself. She always...she said only the outcome had importance. But Da often said that she still had nightmares about it..."

"I guess she did..." Arwen sighed. "She never told me herself either. Your friend Kíli did. He too was wary, but unlike Ariana, he needed to speak about it to grieve." She paused. "Would you like me to tell you?"

Baraz thought for a moment. She had always wanted to know, but had always perhaps been...afraid to discover her mother's past and the ghosts that followed her everywhere. "I think I do."

Arwen nodded. "She told me this: when Erebor was under siege, she went to Gandalf for help. He himself was allied with the Men of Dale – or Laketown I believe by then – and Thranduil of Greenwood. She became quickly good friends with Legolas, Thranduil's son." Baraz nodded at that. She had known too. Ever since her youngest age, she had always asked what the Prince of Greenwood looked like, for to her, he was like a hero, an invincible hero. "Legolas was tasked to protect her during the Battle, and they stationed near the Front Gate to alert the Dwarves of the Company of Thorin."

There was a long pause. Baraz could see, could taste almost, the scene in her head. Her mother standing in front of the Front Gate, the two golden statues erected before it surely broken at that time. She was carrying a bow, just like her daughter, and was followed by a tall Elf with flowing blonde hair and beautiful green eyes. In her mind, Legolas. Yes, she could see the scene.

"The rest I learnt from Kíli. The Battle began, but he himself had stayed with his uncle Thorin. Fíli, your father Bofur and a few others had joined Ariana on the front line. Fíli saved her life. And it cost him his. As I understand it, he was struck by the blade of the Orc he had only just stopped from killing her."

Baraz gasped. She pictured her Fíli, his chest sliced in two by the force of the blow, falling backwards. She pictured herself catching him and trying to soothe him, and him smiling at her one last time before closing his eyes for all eternity. She started crying.

"I am sorry. It is a little too much. I should not have told you that."

"No, my lady, you did well." Baraz sniffed her tears away. "My mother once told me, a long time ago, that dark times were ahead. I do not know how she knew, but I am somehow certain that she was right. And if dark times are ahead, I want to be prepared to see those I love suffer."

Arwen placed a soothing hand on her leg, and let her swallow her pain for a moment.

* * *

><p>Minutes stretched into an instant, and then, finally, Baraz seemed to have grieved the news.<p>

Her blue eyes settled on the Elf maiden again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can." Arwen smiled softly.

"My mother told me that there was a child here before. A child of her race – and mine, I suppose. His name was-"

"Estel." Arwen's smile faltered a little. "Yes... Estel is not here anymore. He has grown into a Man... And he left."

Baraz was suddenly aware of the pain she had brought upon her companion, and felt the need to apologize. "I am sorry, I-"

"No, do not feel sorry. I do miss him, but I know I will see him some time soon." She smiled again, even if her smile was sadder. "What does 'Baraz' mean in the language of your forefathers? If I may know?"

Baraz chuckled darkly. "I'm not sure I can tell you, for Khuzdûl is a secret language. But after all, if my name means something, there is not harm done." She paused. "It means 'red'. I was called after my hair colour."

Arwen nodded then stood. As she prepared to leave Baraz alone, she turned around with a mischievous smile on her lips. "Well, I do not really like the sonority of it. So to me, you shall be _Aier._"

"What does that mean?"

"Little One." And she exited the room in silence.

Baraz whirled around and looked at the waterfall on the other side of her room. Baraz, Poppy, _Aier_..._Pernogoth_... She would have to get used to all these names...

* * *

><p>Time in Rivendell seemed to pass slower than in any other place. Days stretched into weeks, then into months, and soon, the chill of winter fell onto the Elven city.<p>

Soft mounts of snow fell onto the courtyards and icicles formed onto the trees, and Baraz and her father decided it was time to leave.

They visited Bilbo's room one morning, but found the Hobbit heavily asleep.

Baraz sat by his side, her hand stroking his now totally white hair, that felt light as a feather. More wrinkles had appeared on his face, and his breathing was somewhat laboured as he slept. She also knew he had troubles walking without aid, but he still refused a walking stick, pretending that eleventy-one was not a canonical age. But it was.

She looked at her father who stood at the door, his arms crossed, worry painted on his face. "I think we ought to leave without Uncle."

"Yes, I think it'd be wiser..." He offered her his hand and they exited the room, silently closing the door behind them. "I will inform Lord Elrond. You go and pack your things."

She stopped him. "No, Da... I have questions for Master Elrond. I will go to him. Besides, I think it wiser to leave in the morning. I do not like rushed goodbyes."

Bofur nodded. He knew how Baraz had quickly made friends in Rivendell. The Lady Arwen, of course, who had once too gained Ari's trust, but also Glorfindel and Elrohir, one of Elrond's sons. He had taken a shine to her and had taught her how to wield an elven blade, to his very dismay. But what his daughter wanted, she always gained one way or another. He knew better than to forbid her things. "Aye, me neither." It was a lie, of course. If he had his way, they'd be gone within an hour. "I will go to the kitchens and ask for supplies."

Baraz nodded and kissed his brow before hurrying towards the long and high staircase leading to Master Elrond's quarters.

* * *

><p>Her feet brought her to a balcony that gave onto the bridge from which she had arrived the first day. Master Elrond was sitting on a bench, reading a book he held in his long-fingered hands. He did not raise his head upon her arrival.<p>

"You wish to leave, Miss Baraz."

She did not enquire on how he knew. He had the foresight, after all. So she nodded. "Indeed we do. Winter has come and it will take some time before we reach the Lonely Mountain. Our family has waited for us long enough..." She bit her lip, realising how that must have sounded, and chose to add something. "We thank you for your hospitality. I have never felt this peaceful in my life, not even in the Shire."

At that the Elf raised his head, a smile on his lips. "I am glad you found some peace here, young one. Does your father share the same feeling?" His eyes had a mischievous twinkle to them.

She chuckled. "I do not know... Da is willing to leave quickly, but I think he likes it here. He just...fears what his kin might say."

"I am familiar with the Dwarves' uneasiness around the Elves, of course, but I was under the impression that the Company of Thorin had appreciated their stay here."

"Unfortunately, the Company of Thorin doesn't rule under the Mountain."

Elrond nodded gravely. He then closed his book. "I believe you wished to ask something."

Baraz smiled. "Yes, I did." She paused, her smile fading. "I wondered if you knew why Uncle Bilbo's health has deteriorated so quickly after we left the Shire."

Elrond's brow furrowed. "I do. But I do not know if you should." Baraz took offence, and he quickly continued. "Do not get me wrong. You are wise, for your age, and I am sure that you know many a thing. But these are stories that would make you stay awake at night and dream of monsters and wars and death. I would rather not put this burden on your shoulders." He sent her an almost paternal look.

She nodded. She understood, somehow. Arwen's revelations some time prior had already set her soul into mourning, so what would that big secret provoke in her if even the great Lord Elrond was weary of it? "Can I at least know if he'll die?"

Elrond stood, his tall height towering over her, but never menacing her. He put a soothing hand on her shoulder and smiled softly. "He will die, like all of us. But he will die peacefully, of old age, and that is all we can hope for him."

Baraz shed a tear but smiled nonetheless. She was relieved. If Bilbo died of nothing else than old age, then she'd be happy. She knew her mother had died peacefully, and that was all she wanted for her dearest Uncle...

* * *

><p>The next morning, Baraz and Bofur said their goodbyes to the Elves gathered in the front courtyard. Arwen placed a kiss on Baraz' brow and told her they'd see each other again. She also blessed Bofur with a long life, and even if he was trying to be as grim as possible, he was touched, she could see it.<p>

Lord Elrond asked them not to pass the Misty Mountains too close of Dimríl Dale, and saw them off. The twins were on patrol somewhere, and Glorfindel had been gone to Loríen for many a week now.

So father and daughter set off into the dawn and towards the path the Company had once used to cross the Mountains. A path that soon would rejoin the one they took everytime they journeyed to the Lonely Mountain. A path that would lead them towards the Greenwood, then the ruins of Laketown, and then finally, New Dale.

Baraz straightened the straps of her bag on her shoulder, and began singing a song her mother had taught her early on...

_Far over the Misty Mountains rise_

_Leave us standing upon the height._

_What was before we'll see once more_

_Is our kingdom a distant light?_

_Fiery Mountain beneath the Moon_

_The words unspoken will be there soon_

_For home a song that echoes on_

_And all who find us will know the tune..._


	5. 4, The return to Erebor

_A/N: I'm back a little sooner than I scheduled. I hope you're not disappointed. :p Just so you know, after last chapter, I received some...for lack of a better word...useless reviews. I just wanted to be clear on something: I appreciate constructive criticism, I even encourage it because I am far from being a perfect writer and I think that when choosing to work on something as big as LOTR, one has to have done his/her homework properly. This person chose to point out (quite violently I must say) that I made huge mistakes in Rhenio mi Ennor, the prequel of this story. NO, I did NOT do my homework on that work, and besides, the mistakes I made are made by most writers out here, so chill out. I would have accepted those critics if that person didn't come back again and again to try and just destroy me. It didn't work. I don't care if you didn't like it. Just don't read it._

_Now that is clear, please, do proceed with the next chapter. Oops, I did my homework here as well._

* * *

><p><em><span><strong><em>Disclaimer:<em>****_ Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Fìli, son of Kìli and some secundary characters._**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Playlist for this chapter:<strong> Bard, a Man of Laketown and Thrice Welcome from the The Desolation of Smaug OST; Craftsmen Dwarves from the The Battle for Middle-Earth 2 soundtrack._

* * *

><p><strong>4. The return to Erebor<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>3002 T.A.<strong>_

* * *

><p>After they left Rivendell, the course of Bofur and Baraz' trip was quicker. Between them and their hurry to rally the other side of the Mountains, they reached Greenwood within two weeks, and the ruins of Esgaroth in another month.<p>

Baraz didn't even try to hide her disappointment when they crossed the forest by the newly redone Old Road and saw no Elf. Bofur chastised her enthusiasm and said she had spent too much time with the Tall Folk already and needn't another meeting, but his daughter had a hidden agenda.

Whenever they'd cross Greenwood on their way and stopped for the night, she would sneak away when her father was sleeping and would hunt the Elves in their many clearings. That's how she met Tauriel, the red-haired Elf shield-maiden.

Tauriel had been a friend of her mother's, and told her many stories about their meeting and the fact that, at first, the She-Elf wanted the Daughter of Men dead for sneaking away unseen. Then they too had become close and each time Baraz would wish to meet her, and each time they would talk about Ariana and stories of times long past and of their respective friends.

But this time, the forest was mute. There was no bird song, no elven song in the air. The forest itself seemed sicker than before.

Something was wrong.

* * *

><p>All her life, Baraz had known only burnt ashes and ruins on the lake where Esgaroth once stood. Her father didn't like the place, he said it reminded him too much of what he had lost during the Quest. But she, in her almighty human curiosity, had always wandered off into the fallen city, trying to find trinkets that had survived the dragon fire. Once, she had found a little puppet buried in the ashes. She had given it to a girl in New Dale. A girl who, now, was a happy mother of five.<p>

This time, the wind seemed stronger on the Lake, and the ashes on Esgaroth flew into the air and away, revealing other sights under them.

Bofur looked the other way, but she could not.

Bodies. Skeletons.

That had been hidden away before but that were bare to her eyes now.

"Now you know why I don't like it here..."

Bofur hurried quicker, and she followed, her eyes unable not to glance at the dead every now and then. It was the first time that she witnessed the fury of Smaug's fire. Burnt skeletons, melted bones, skulls forever frozen in a silent scream. Had it really been that horrible?

She had met King Bard only once during her childhood. He was a tall, haunted Man. She had never thought of it before, but he surely had the scars of his encounter with the dragon engraved in his mind. It surely haunted him at night, with nightmares of a city burning and of people dying. Only he had managed to put an end to it, and even then...more deaths ensued.

Now his elderly son Bain ruled over Dale. And he never talked of these times, even if he had been there. He and his sisters had been teenagers when the dragon came down from the Mountain. But he didn't look as haunted as his father, and now, Baraz guessed it was because Bard had put his children on a barge as soon as he saw the Mountain glow golden and that he had saved them the sight of the ruined Esgaroth.

Such pain and suffering...

Baraz had never thought of it this way before. In her innocence, she had perhaps thought that Smaug had been killed before he could do any harm and that Laketown had been burnt to the ground by its people emigrating to the newly-found Dale. How wrong she had been...

In this precise moment, as she glanced at the Mountain in the horizon, her destination, she wished to whomever would listen that she would never live something as scorching and awful as what had happened in Esgaroth...

* * *

><p>They entered Dale in mid-morning on a market day. They crossed the path of many a farmer or merchant heading to the city to buy or sell goods. But none stopped them or even seemed to recognize them.<p>

It was a welcome change, sometimes, to arrive to Dale and not to be stopped by everyone. In Hobbiton, Baraz and her father were well-known, and their every move was impeded by a legion of Hobbits greeting them and/or inviting them over for tea. While here...well...no one cared about their arrival. They were just another couple of strange people heading to the Mountain.

For a cold day of winter, the day was sunny enough to make the city look beautiful. All the trees had long since lost their leaves, but children had hung lanterns and toys in their branches, tokens given to Nature so the next year would be prosperous. Everywhere the colours of the people's clothes made a joyful pattern of rainbows. The heavy capes and bonnets themselves were sometimes decorated with the pattern of a flower.

Baraz loved Dale. Whenever she visited her cousins in Erebor, she and Fíli would spend their entire days losing themselves in the city, where no one knew who they were.

* * *

><p>"Bofur!"<p>

The Dwarf and his daughter stopped, whirling around to see who greeted them in the middle of the market-place. Ída, the Dwarf-wife of Nori, hurried to stand before them, a chastising look on her face.

"We were expecting you sooner!"

Bofur sighed and rolled his eyes while Baraz smiled, amused by the situation. Ída was acting as Bofur's mother sometimes, even if they were not related. But Nori was his best-friend, and sometimes, it seemed to give her some power over the males. "We were slowed down."

"So I see!" She shook her head and then lifted her dark eyes to meet Baraz'. "You haven't aged a day!" She smiled widely. "I know someone who'll be happy to see you. He's been talking non-sense for days now. Thought you had been eaten by a Troll or taken prisoner by the old wizard in Greenwood..." She huffed as she turned around to guide them through the market and towards a freer road towards the Mountain. "These younglings and their stupid stories..."

Baraz chuckled as she and her father followed the female Dwarf through the maze of streets. She could only be talking of Fíli, and it warmed her heart to know he had been worried for them...

* * *

><p>The Lonely Mountain was no more an abandoned city. It was once again buzzing with life, its halls lighted by a thousand torches, its walls and stone-floors shining with the incessant polishing of feet and hands, its people happy and no more pariahs.<p>

Baraz and Bofur climbed the stairs leading to the Front Gate and were greeted by some Dwarves who were mending one of the statues. It had been dented on the figure's nose and they were smoothing the stone with great care. Among them, Baraz recognized Azùr, one of the dwarflings she had been brought up with. Although he did not give any indication that he knew her at all.

Ída guided them both towards the sleeping quarters on the right side of the Mountain – the left side was for the royals, and if Baraz was often seen in that aisle, it was only because Fíli lived over there with his own father.

* * *

><p>"Bofur!"<p>

There was a great commotion as Bofur put his bag down to greet and then embrace the red-haired dwarf hurrying his way. "Nori, my dear friend."

Baraz smiled at the reunion and was given an equally bruising hug by he she had come to call 'Uncle Nori' before he pulled them both towards his own quarters.

"We haven't managed to be given quarters for you two just yet – I think Dain didn't actually believe you'd stay for good this time – so you'll have to sleep with us for a few nights more."

Bofur smiled. "I do not mind the company, to be honest."

Nori smiled back, then gestured Baraz to come closer. "I've arranged a bigger mattress this time. You'll have to thank Brand for it."

Her brow furrowed. "Brand? The _Prince_?"

"He's a nice lad and he's often down here. He's as keen on us Dwarves as you are on Hobbits." He chuckled at his own joke. "Come now, settle down before you go pay your respects."

* * *

><p>It was customary to pay your respects to the King when arriving in Erebor. Each and every time, Baraz held her head down and tried not to pay too much attention to the obvious insults Dain and sometimes his son Thorin Stonehelm sent her way. 'Half-Breed' was their favourite, among other more colourful words they thought she did not understand because they uttered them in Khuzdûl.<p>

After they had set their bags down, Bofur and Baraz followed Nori towards the throne room. It was a huge hall with a gigantic statue of Thrór, Thorin Oakenshield's grandfather and first owner of the Arkenstone. In front of that statue was the throne itself, on top of which the stone shone its bright and so peculiar light.

Dain was sat upon said throne, his mithril crown on his bold head, his small dark eyes two slits as they approached. On his left stood his son and heir Thorin Stonehelm, dark short hair and grey eyes, a scar running along his left cheek. On the right stood Kíli and his son Fíli. Their royal blood prevented Dain from placing them among the common crowd, and they stood there, a painful reminder of a time that still could be. A time when Kíli sat on the throne.

"Hail Dain Ironfoot. May your beard grow ever longer..."

Bofur bowed before the throne and Baraz, some paces back in respect, did the same, her eyes going to Fíli, who was trying not to smile.

"Stand, Bofur, son of the Blue Mountains." Bofur stood straighter but Baraz kept her back arched, knowing all-too-well that any wrong move she made would be held against her for decades to come. "And arise, Baraz, daughter of Bofur." She stood straighter, but still a little bent, as her height offended most Dwarves. "It is good to know you have arrived safe and sound."

Thorin shifted on his two feet, and Baraz gritted her teeth. She knew the Crown Prince didn't like her, and it was quite reciprocated. In fact, they had made it quite clear the day she gave him that scar. One of her arrows had grazed his cheek and almost blinded him. But he had asked for it. So now, she knew that he was not content that their journey had been seemingly peaceful and without dangers.

Bofur cleared his throat. "Your Majesty is too kind." He bowed the head, which he had bare since it was forbidden to wear a hat in the presence of the King. "I would ask once more for your assistance." Dain pressed the matter with a raised hand. "With the passing of my wife," he did not say her name for it was a name that rendered the King less inclined to a good mood, "my daughter and I have decided to settle down here. Indefinitely."

There was a quick rumour among the Dwarves in the room. All but those beside the throne.

Dain nodded gravely. "I will find you suitable quarters in the toy-makers' aisle."

Bofur bowed the head again. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Dain then dismissed them by starting a conversation with his son, and the hall began to buzz with life once again.

* * *

><p>Kíli and Fíli quickly got down from their perch and hurried towards father and daughter. Baraz soon found herself brought into a rib-cracking hug from Kíli, and she returned the embrace eagerly.<p>

The same went with Fíli, who chuckled happily as she squeezed the life out of him.

"I've missed you..."

"And I you..." he was smiling widely, and she returned the smile without difficulties. She was with the two people she loved the most beside her father. She was content.

"We were worried something had happened along the way..." Kíli brought the two younger ones' attention back to him. "There has been talk of goblins and orcs in these parts once again."

Bofur shook his head. "We have not seen any goblins this side of the Misty Mountains."

Baraz huffed. "Yes, because there were some West." Kíli furrowed his brow. "The Elves of Rivendell had to hunt some down after they attacked some of their people." Bofur cleared his throat uneasily. "What, Da? I can tell Uncle Kíli!"

"Of course you can tell me." Kíli sighed. "These rumours are worrying me. It looks like last time..."

Bofur shook his head. "It is not like last time, because there is no danger up ahead. Now," he took his daughter's hand, "shall we go somewhere and properly celebrate our arrival? Where is my good-for-nothing brother anyway?"

Kíli chuckled. "In the kitchens, I should say. Come, let's have a good pint of ale together first."

Fíli then stopped the group from advancing. "I am sorry, Father, but I would like to speak to Baraz. Alone..."

Bofur's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth as if to refuse, but Kíli pushed his fellow Dwarf forward and nodded. "Of course. We will see you later."

* * *

><p>Fíli guided Baraz towards his chambers in the royal quarters. They crossed the path of many a servant, and each and every one of them stared in their wake, as if Baraz' presence in this part of Erebor was some kind of...sin.<p>

"Fil, what is it you have to talk about that needs for us to be locked away in your room?" She entered said room and went to sit on the familiar bed, her eyes not even looking around for she knew each object by heart.

He closed the door with a sigh and went to sit on an armchair facing her, his fingers toying with the blanket thrown over one arm and on which you could see the dwarven runes for 'Fíli'. "Something happened a week ago. Something that made us decide...well...something...that concerns you as well."

Baraz' brow furrowed. "You're starting to worry me..."

"Hear me out first..." He held a hand up. "I'm asking you the most difficult task not to interrupt before I'm done."

"I'll try."

Fíli smirked, knowing very well it'd be hard for her to keep her mouth shut, then his face became grave, almost graver than anything she could have seen before. Its beautiful features disappeared under a shadow and his blue eyes lowered onto his hands as if he was picturing something. "Some time ago, I sent you a letter saying Dain was beginning to be so paranoid he believed Father and I to plot against him to take back the throne..." Baraz nodded absent-mindedly. She remembered. "It has taken a turn for the worst. We are being watched everytime we set a foot out of Erebor, and are obligated to follow the King and his son around as if we were puppies." he sighed. "Last week, Dain called for us in his personal study. He wants me to marry." Upon seeing Baraz would want to talk, he held out a hand to shut her up. "His intent is quite clear: he wants to choose my bride to make sure I would not be a threat to him anymore. I am my father's heir after all, and therefore, Thorin's heir."

He paused, his eyes going to the sword placed against the wall next to the door. It had been Thorin's during the Battle of Azanulbizar. Fíli, just like Baraz, had heard many stories of the famous Thorin Oakenshield, and he more than anyone else wanted to make his great-uncle's memory proud.

"Then we learnt something else." His blue eyes met Baraz'. "When the King learnt about your arrival and the fact that you and Bofur wanted to stay indefinitely, he gave orders. To spy on you. He wants to know who you meet, what you talk about, what you do of your days, everything."

"Why?" She bit her lip, remembering she should have remained silent.

"Dain didn't like your mother. He hated her, in fact. Every person that speaks her name, you know..." she nodded. She knew. "The fact that you are only half a Dwarf makes you look like a monster in his eyes. He believes you are a spy from the Men of Dale. Or worse, from the Elves." he sighed again. "So, you need protection." He looked at her more intently. "We thought of something that might settle things down for both our parties."

He paused, and let her understand on her own. After a long moment, Baraz' lips opened in a silent gasp. "Are you saying that-?"

"We should announce our betrothal." he nodded to himself. "This way, Dain cannot choose my bride and you will be protected by your link to our part of the royal family. Hurting you would be like hurting me or Father, and there'd be a civil war brewing. He knows that very well..."

"But, Fil... I don't want to marry you!" She stared at him in a new light, trying to imagine what it'd be to kiss him, to...do some things with him when she did not feel that way for him. Worse, it'd be like kissing or sleeping with her own brother...

He chuckled darkly. "I'm sorry to say it, but neither do I, Baraz... But for the moment, it is the wisest and safest course for both of us. Fortunately, the Dwarves' betrothals can last forever and sometimes they don't even turn into proper marriages."

"So what, you intend to just wait for Dain to die to marry someone else?"

He shrugged. "We'll see. Father says something is preparing in the East. He's afraid Mordor is awakening. Everyone, just like your father earlier, dismisses his worries like nothing, but...I fear he is right."

Baraz sighed, her eyes going to her hands. She imagined one of the Dwarves' beautifully carved rings on her finger, braids in her hair, walking hand-in-hand with Fíli, but everything for just a pretence... And if war was truly coming, then this could end faster than falling asleep.

With another deep sigh, she nodded. "Alright. Braid my hair. Better make them believe our private discussion was your proposal."

Fíli's eyes widened. "Really? You agree?"

She nodded. "I agree. And if our...engagement...can protect Father as well, I'd rather have it before Dain and his son try something like pushing him through one of the balconies."

Fíli nodded and moved to sit behind her on the bed. He undid the bun she had put her red hair in, and began deftly braiding her hair with the braids of his family. Each family's braids were different so that its members could recognize each other in gatherings. Baraz knew that. She knew all the customs of the Dwarves.

But in that very moment, she was far from agreeing to them...


	6. 5, The beginning of the end

_A/N: Hello everyone! Here I am back for one last chapter before TBOTFA is out... I can't tell you how horrible I feel at the moment knowing it'll probably be the last EVER film of the franchise, since The Silmarillion is a no go... :'( I so dearly want to see this; and at the same time, I don't. Duh. Anyway, last chapter before this last film is out, so I'll post two chapters next time: one to "celebrate", and one for Christmas time! Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong><em>Disclaimer:<em>****_ Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Fìli, son of Kìli and some secundary characters._**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Playlist for this chapter:<strong> Craftsmen Dwarves; The Dwarves explore; and Pride of the Dwarves from Battle for Middle-Earth II: the video game OST._

* * *

><p><strong>5. The beginning of the end<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>3018 T.A.<strong>_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>July<strong>_

* * *

><p>"Baraz!"<p>

The sound of her name made the young woman raise her eyes from her current work. Upon seeing Fíli hurrying her way, she finished the bandage and smiled down at the child she had been tending to. "There, you can go. But be careful not to burn yourself again."

The child smiled at her and ran off with a 'Thanks Miss Baraz!' while she wiped her hands on her apron and rose to greet her fiancé.

It had been long years since Baraz and Fíli announced their betrothal to Erebor's court. If, at first, not many accepted the match among the Dwarves, years and years of appearing hand in hand and of quiet denials at her being unfaithful had calmed things down.

And if Baraz still felt she was imprisoned in a life she had not chosen, well...at least she knew the man she was supposed to marry.

* * *

><p>For years then she had been acting as healer to the Men of Dale – as the Dwarves refused her help, as she was 'only' a half-breed. But this work calmed her mind, and the kindness of her patients made her forget sometimes that she was growing old but not freer. Time passed, terrible, murdering people she had become to like. And she remained there, unmoving, wrinkles still refusing to appear on her ever-juvenile face.<p>

King Bain of Dale had died some years prior, and his son, Brand, had taken up the throne. He was by then 38, and had fathered two daughters and a boy of 17, Bard. Baraz had been there for the delivery of the second child, who had presented herself by the siege rather than the head. She managed to save both mother and child, and in her honour, Brand called the child Ariana.

Nori had once told her that she'd like the then Prince of Dale and she remembered their meeting quite well. Brand had been injured after a sparring gone wrong, and while his current healers thought they'd have to cut the hand up to the wrist, she had managed to save him from it. He lacked a finger, but at least, he could still hold a sword. Ever since then, he called upon her when he or his relatives were ill or in need of surgery, and their friendship had been swift to thrive.

When asked where she had learnt her medical skills, Baraz's eyes would darken with sadness, because it had been Oin who had taught her, and there was still no word from the colony in Moria. She held little hope that her friends had survived, and it still hurt to talk about the wise silver-haired Dwarf that had once asked her to call him 'Grandfather'. Bofur had refused when she had told him that – she was still a teenager at the time – but when Oin had told both that he had always thought of Ariana as his daughter, they could do little but accept. And with this newly-found kinsman, Baraz had also found a patient teacher who had taught her everything she knew about healing plants and manners to bind limbs to help the healing.

* * *

><p>Fíli reached her as she put her apron to the side. "We have been called to the King's counsel."<p>

Baraz' brow furrowed. Ever since she had been officially linked to Fíli, she was considered one small part of the royal family, and had been sometimes asked to participate in official events, but Dain tried to make these occurrences as scarce as possible.

So she wondered why he was asking for her presence at something as important and forbidden to her as a Royal Counsel.

Fíli familiarly took her hand as they hurried from her little office in the city and towards the Mountain. She had grown accustomed to this, but still felt it was a lie. But her friend had made no other move, and she knew that, at least, he would never force something else on her.

"Do you know what this is about?"

He shrugged, his gaze hard on the path ahead. "I guess it has something to do with the brewing war at hand... Which is no good at all."

A few months prior, scouts had told the Kings of a merging of an army South in Mordor, and the Elves had gone so far as to warn them of some activity down in Dol Guldur in the forest. What Ariana had warned her daughter against seemed to have caught up with them.

The days seemed shorter, even in summer, and a cold wind seemed to never fail to get down from the Misty Mountains, freezing the people's blood and hopes at the same time.

* * *

><p>They reached the Mountain in time to see Gloin and his son Gimli enter the hall. Gloin, upon seeing the two younger ones, waited for them. "Summoned as well?"<p>

Fíli nodded but didn't utter a word. Gloin was of royal blood. His great-grandfather or something like that had been Thorin's ancestor's brother. Or so Baraz had been told. She had never discussed the fact that he was invited to every part of the King's official life.

She and Gimli were not really close. The older Dwarf was very patronizing with her – and with everyone younger than him – but she appreciated his company, especially during long diners where ale flowed, because when he was tipsy, he became the funniest dwarf to be around.

"It must be important if your little fiancée has been called for too..."

Baraz threw Gloin a harsh glance. "You know, I'm right here, you can talk to me directly, Uncle Gloin..."

He rolled his eyes at the familiar name. Everyone in Thorin's company had become her uncle by friendship to her mother and father, but Gloin had never liked that nickname. When Ariana told her daughter that it had to do with the fact that he did not quite like her during their Quest, she had understood why he was always telling her off. But instead of stopping to call him Uncle, she had continued, in a mischievous way to spite him.

* * *

><p>There was quite the crowd in the Counsel Chamber when they arrived: Dain and his son, of course, but also Kíli, Dwalin, the colossus Baraz was secretly afraid of but who proved to be more of a big cuddly thing than anything else, Nori, his older brother Dori, and some of Dain's generals.<p>

"Ah, there they come. We are all here at last." Dain pointed at one guard. "Close the door behind you. No one can disturb this meeting." The guard bowed the head and exited the room, closing the huge doors behind him in a booming sound.

Baraz sat in-between her betrothed and his father, and upon seeing the mask of gravity on Kíli's otherwise joyful face, she knew something important had indeed happened.

Dain stood at his end of the table. "Dearest Dwarves," he paused at Baraz, "and kin. I have called upon you today for an important purpose that shall change the face of our world." He produced a letter from his pocket. The paper was of a soft peach colour, and it struck Baraz at that moment that it hadn't been sent by a Dwarf. The writing she could see on it was too curvy.

This was the doings of an Elf.

"You all know that Mordor has awaken. Our beloved Mountain and the city next to it have been preparing for the worst some quite some time now." Most Dwarves nodded at that. Baraz didn't know it had been so grave that Erebor was already preparing for a siege... "But now, one of our...allies calls for...advice."

He waved the letter before him. Dwalin cleared his throat. "Is this from the Blue Mountains? Have the goblins attacked once again?"

Gloin threw his fist on the table. "Or is it from the Iron Hills?"

Dain sat back down. "Neither. This letter comes from the Elves of Rivendell."

There was a general gasp around the table. Some stood, mostly generals, to display their hatred towards the Tall Folk. Dain appeased them with a hand and they all sat back down.

"Their Lord, Elrond, is well-known for his wisdom and power of foresight."

Thorin glared openly at his elder. "You have never said you were exchanging letters with this...Elrond, Father."

Dain returned the glare. "Who I exchange letters with is none of your business, Thorin!" he sighed as if to regain his calm. "The fact is, I have been warned of minor problems before by Lord Elrond. And in turn, I have vowed our...friendship to him and his kin. Not to the Elves of Mirkwood," he added, for many a general was ready to speak up again, and Thranduil and his kin were still forbidden to enter Erebor even decades after the Battle of Five Armies. "This morrow, I received this letter, asking of us to send a delegation to Rivendell."

"What for?" Dwalin did not discuss the fact. He, as all those who had been part of the Quest, knew that Lord Elrond was mostly fond of Dwarves. He would not trick them.

"He says he has foreseen something that will change the lives of all races on this Earth. He also says he asked for delegations of all races to attend this exceptional meeting." He paused, gauging every person around the table, stopping a fraction of a second more on Baraz. "I called upon you here and now to choose who among us will go."

There was the rumour of whispers around the table, and Kíli, next to Baraz, placed a discreet hand on hers in her lap. With a squeeze, he told her all she needed to know. He wanted her to go. And it made sense.

But she would not, could not, speak up first. She was the only female around the table, and did not want to spite the King even more than with her mere presence.

"I will go. And my lad with me. We are of royal blood and will represent you at this...meeting." Gloin stood, quickly followed by his son Gimli, who had his brown eyes cast down and his jaw set. He was not keen on it, apparently.

Dain nodded. "This is the wisest choice indeed, cousin. For I need some of you more than others." he looked pointedly at Kíli and Dwalin who nodded back. "Who else?"

One general, by the name of Frír, stood. "I will go, my Lord."

Dain nodded again. "We need one more." His eyes again met Baraz' across the table. She knew why he wanted her to go.

So she would.

She stood, and there was a gasp among those who had not followed the silent exchange. "I will go, Your Majesty. I am, after all, of dwarven blood. And my knowledge of the Elves of Rivendell can be useful."

Someone cleared his throat. It proved to be Dwalin. "My Lord, if I may... The lass is merely seventy-years-old, she cannot-" Dain lifted a hand and shut the other Dwarf up.

"If she wishes to go, she will, Dwalin. Plus, her healing skills can be of some use." He bowed the head at Baraz who found the respectful gesture puzzling. "I accept your will to go, young Baraz. But your betrothed has to accept."

All eyes went to Fíli who shifted, clearly uneasy. Then he nodded slowly. "I accept her leaving."

Dain nodded again. "Good. Then it is settled. Your company of four will leave in the morrow with fresh ponies. May your beards grow ever longer!"

The greeting was repeated along the table, then the meeting was dismissed.

* * *

><p>Kíli and Fíli remained by Baraz' side. The older caught her arm and brought her to a dark corner in a corridor, his son following.<p>

"Baraz, this is very important. You do understand the importance of this, don't you?" She nodded. "Good. Now, Gloin may be wise, but he is stubborn, and he hates the Elves. As does Gimli. Whatever Lord Elrond has summoned us for, it must be to try and reform an alliance of some sort. Whatever this is, you must promise me to do everything in your power to push Gloin to make the right choice."

Her brow furrowed. "I do not... He does not listen to me..."

"He will. You know the Elves' tongue. And if Dain is right, then other delegations will come. One from the Elvenhalls of Mirkwood most certainly. You must not let Gloin or Gimli or even Frír act disrespectfully towards any race, do you understand?" She nodded. "Good."

And as they walked through the corridors and towards her father's quarters where she'd pack, Baraz felt the importance of the task at hand befall her shoulders. She was probably Erebor's only chance to reform a healthy alliance with the Elves and Men... God that was not going to be difficult...

* * *

><p>Bofur was not too happy to learn that his daughter and only child would leave his side to go back to Rivendell, especially not with three Dwarves that did not like her very much.<p>

But after Kíli and Nori tried to convince him that she was old enough to protect herself from any threat, he accepted her leave and hugged her tight. When she'd leave in the morning, he would certainly already be at work in the mines.

Fíli promised to be there when they left, as all good fiancé should. He offered her a ring that had once been Dís', Kíli's mother's. He said it was to protect her, but deep down, she knew it was really a way to remind everyone that she was betrothed to him and that no harm could come to her. She wished it'd work, for Frír was far from being her favourite among the dwarven generals...

* * *

><p>The following morning, at dawn, the four members of the Dwarves of Erebor's delegation were standing before the Front Gate of the Mountain, their ponies haltered, their bags ready and tied to the beasts' backs.<p>

Gimli had taken his father's old axe and was fidgeting with it, clearly displeased by having to go.

Gloin stood stoic, his greying hair neatly plaited back, his hands folded in his back. He was waiting calmly as a statue, his eyes sometimes going to Baraz, who was caressing her pony's mane to calm herself and to make the lump in her throat disappear. To no avail.

Finally Frír got out of the Mountain with Dain, Thorin, Kíli and Fíli. He was carrying a roll that had obviously been written by Dain himself. He bowed before his King then moved to his own pony.

Dain opened his arms and a sickening smile appeared on his lips. "Good luck, my brothers. Good luck, young Baraz! You will surely need it!"

All bowed before the King, and then Fíli got down the stairs to bring her into a warm and tight hug. Their difference in height was sometimes making their embraces awkward, for Baraz was at least twenty inches taller than her supposedly beloved.

Fíli pulled back, and in a last attempt to prove their 'undying love', he placed a careful kiss on her cheek.

She tried a smile that felt false, and then she followed her new companions who were pulling their ponies towards the city.

With one last glance over her shoulder, Baraz left Erebor once again. And this time felt horribly like the last time...

* * *

><p><em>AN2: I know this chapter is kind of a filler, but I will often now be travelling through unseen scenes in either the books or the movies. As you all have guessed by now I suppose, Baraz' path will not be carrying her all the way to Mordor...far from it._


	7. 6, Many meetings

_A/N: Hello dear readers and Merry Christmas (if a bit late)! I wish you the best of New Year's Eves! And I am back, as promised, with two chapters: one for Christmas, and another to "celebrate" the end of the LOTR era..._

_I don't know what you thought of this last movie, but I liked it. Liked, not loved. There were some - many, in fact - useless scenes, and I'm still mourning the fact that poor Fili died like a nothing. Duh. Anyway..._

_Enjoy anyway! ;)_

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>Disclaimer:<span>_****_ Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Fìli, son of Kìli and some secundary characters._**

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>Playlist for this chapter:<span> _**_Pride of the Dwarves from the Battle for Middle-Earth 2 OST; and Many Meetings from the Fellowship of the Ring OST._

* * *

><p><strong>6. Many meetings<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>3018 T.A.<strong>_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>October<strong>_

* * *

><p>Months had passed since the company had left Erebor, and still they had not arrived in Rivendell.<p>

Baraz had had the most unwelcome pleasure to have to go around Greenwood to reach the Misty Mountains by the North. When she had asked her companions for the reason of such a long detour, they had told her with many a glare in her direction that they did not wish to cross the Elves' path, no matter what. When she pushed her luck as to tell her 'Uncle' Gloin that the last time he had crossed the Greenwood Thranduil and his kin had let him live, he refused to talk to her for days on end.

So they took the long road and countered the forest by the North. It took them twice as long to reach the Mountains as it would have taken them had they crossed the woods, but not a Dwarf seemed unphased by it.

The chilly air of the Northern Mountains did little to reassure Baraz. She had had her fair share of mountain-crossing, what with her numerous visits to the Lonely Mountain, but she had never had to walk through ten-feet-high snow, her pony freezing from the sheer cold, her hair rendered hard and easily breakable by the frost.

Gimli had seemingly taken upon himself to protect her from the harms of the way. They would cross Troll land, and if her mother had been lucky enough to escape three of these beasts, she doubted she could do the same in a place where the sun barely managed to get through the clouds. So she accepted the assistance, especially when it meant she could talk with someone who was apparently less and less inclined to hate her as the journey went on.

In some of their conversations, Baraz learnt that Gimli had been told not to trust her by his father, and that he had never discussed this general rule, that he had never really tried to know her better because everyone he knew insulted her in her back and hated her on principle. When she had assured him that he could trust her, he promised to think about it.

All in all, this journey only served to make her understand the depth of the hatred that her own species had towards her...only because she was different.

* * *

><p>One morning in late October, they finally passed the last pass of the Mountains and went in sight of the West.<p>

Baraz stood there, glancing down onto the endless plains and green grass and tall trees and realised in that moment that she had missed the Shire. She had missed her friends the dear Hobbits; her games with the youngest ones; the feasts; and the general sense of 'home' that accompanied her feet wherever she went.

"Young Baraz, is everything alright?"

She wiped a frozen tear from her white cheek and nodded at Gloin. "I was just being nostalgic. It has been too many years since I last came in this part of the world."

Gloin passed her with a harsh glance, pulling his whining pony behind him, soon followed by Frír, who never spoke in her presence anyway. Only Gimli lingered back with her. It was, to her knowledge, the first time he glanced onto the wonderful West.

"You had friends in these parts?"

She noticed his brown eyes were on the horizon and not on her, that he was not judging, merely asking. So she nodded. "I had. And I was born in these parts too..."

At that he looked at her strangely. "I thought you were born in the Blue Mountains!"

She chuckled darkly. "That's what my father tells everyone so I am given one more piece of...legitimacy. But in all truth, I was born in the Shire, among Halflings."

His brow furrowed. But he remained silent on the matter. "How long do you think it'll take us to reach the Elves?"

"A day, maybe two. Going down the Mountains is faster than climbing them." She chuckled without joy. "If you are in a hurry, perhaps you can let yourself roll down, it'd be faster..."

He snorted and passed her too. "Sometimes your humour is of the strangest sort..."

She glanced once more onto the green and yellow horizon of the soft morning, trying to guess where the flowery gardens of her childhood home lay, and then, finally, she followed her companions...

* * *

><p>It took them a little more than two days to go down the Mountains. A chilly and fast wind slowed them down, and the loss of a pony who fell into a ravine made them lose a good part of their spare blankets and bedrolls. And two nights sleeping onto the cold and hard ground, covered by nothing but your own coat, was not the best way to start a journey.<p>

So when they got in sight of the Hidden Valley, the Dwarves were all in the worst of moods. Baraz only had managed to keep a little bounce in her step as she approached the place she had loved so much during her first – and last to date – visit. She even found herself secretly wishing that Lord Elrond had seen them coming and would greet her more warmly than the others, if only to show them she was appreciated in his home.

But, in all certainty, this would not help the bad way they already saw her...

* * *

><p>"Welcome to Imladris, my dear Dwarves!"<p>

A figure emerged from the trees, all white tunic and golden hair and blue eyes. Baraz felt a natural smile form onto her lips as she recognized the Elf greeting them. He bowed his gracious head and placed a hand on his heart, and Baraz mirrored him while her companions grumbled in their beards.

"Glorfindel... _Nae saian luume_." _**It has been too long.**_

He stood straighter and smiled wider. "Baraz... _Cormamin lindua ele lle..._" _**My heart sings to see you.**_ He then looked at each Dwarf accompanying her and bowed the head again. "My name is Glorfindel. Lord Elrond has asked me to walk ahead to greet you and guide you to the city."

Frír adjusted his grip on his axe as if threatening the Elf who stood a good two heads over him. "And why has Lord Elrond not see fit to greet us himself?"

Glorfindel seemed unmoved by the certain insult. "Lord Elrond is tending to one of our guests who has been injured on his way here."

At that Frír did not know what to answer.

Gloin then took a pace forward. "My name if Gloin, and this is my son, Gimli. And this is Frír. You obviously already know our Miss Baraz." He punctuated this affirmation – which sounded more like an accusation to Baraz – with a pointed glance at her.

Glorfindel's smile returned. "Well met, Gloin, Gimli and Frír. Yes, I have had the honour and pleasure to meet Miss Baraz and her father when they passed through here many a year past. Now, if you may follow me, you surely are hungry." He gestured towards the road again in an ample and gracious move, and started to walk very slowly towards the city who remained still hidden by the trees.

Baraz all naturally took a place beside him while the Dwarves followed.

"Glorfindel, can I ask you something?"

The Elf looked down at her with a small smile. "You know you can always ask me anything..."

She smiled back. "Is my Uncle Bilbo..." she dared not finish.

He placed a careful hand on her shoulder, which made one Dwarf – she did not know who – cough in annoyance. "He still lives. Strong and funny as ever. His years here have made him forget the old age that suddenly took him. He is happy. Or so I believe. I have never asked him. He will be very happy to see you. We did not know you would be part of the delegation."

She smiled to herself at the happy news, then threw him a mischievous glance. "Well, I joined to make sure my dear relatives did not burn your lovely city down."

Glorfindel laughed his clear and bell-chiming laugh, and then they came in sight of Rivendell.

* * *

><p>The city of Elves was as beautiful as Baraz remembered: the waterfall chanting behind the ivy-covered walls and pillars, endless courtyards with fountains and statues, and wherever the eye could see, Elves, both male and female, either quietly discussing or playing music or gathering fruits for a feast.<p>

Behind her, Baraz' companions gasped at the sheer beauty of the place, and she knew that however you felt about the Tall Folk, you could never be indifferent to the peace and quiet that erupted from Rivendell's very walls...

But as they neared the bridge leading to a back courtyard – the same she and her father had said goodbye to their hosts years prior – Baraz noticed other figures than Elves. A tall, Man-like figure on a balcony; and several smaller figures under a canopy of flowers. Smoke arose from this smaller group.

She gasped as she caught sight of a mop of red hair.

"Glorfindel... Are there Hobbits in Rivendell? I mean, more than Uncle Bilbo?"

The Elf chuckled and pushed her forward onto the steep bridge – which apparently was enchanted because it was impossible to fall off. "You will see. I believe they too will be happy to see you."

They entered the courtyard and the few Elves present stood and bowed to their new guests. But it was a particular Elf that Baraz spotted on top of stairs. Her dark hair was adorned by a crown of silver that represented stars, and she had her hands folded before her, a smile widening as she met Baraz' eyes.

In her hurry to greet her hostess, Baraz forgot to bow the head, but the Elf did not take offence as the half-dwarf stood before her with a grin wider than her own.

"Arwen! It is so nice to see you..."

The Elf-maiden chuckled clearly and bowed to place a kiss on her brow. "It is a greater pleasure to see you, my dear _Aier_." She then opened her arms to greet the other Dwarves. "Welcome, my friends. I am the Lady Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond. He is presently still tending to one of our guests, but he will meet you in a moment. I am tasked to see you to your rooms."

This time, not one Dwarf dared to make an unpleasant remark. Arwen had that power on everyone she appeared to: she was so completely beautiful that her beauty shut every thought out.

* * *

><p>Baraz was naturally shown to her previous room – her mother's. Arwen told her that no one would ever sleep in there apart from her, that it was her room and no one else's, which made our young maiden's heart leap in her chest.<p>

She was left alone for a moment when Arwen guided her three companions a little further down the hall to their own room. She revelled in how nothing had changed in there – but then time seemed to pass slower in Rivendell, as in every other Elven place.

She placed what remained of her pack onto the bed and put her weapons down onto a cabinet, where they stood out monstrously on the beauty on the room. It seemed so peaceful, so...pure...that even a wooden bow seemed like a heresy.

When she was done unpacking, Baraz decided it'd be better to change into new clothes, since those she was wearing had not been washed for days on end. She chose a simple blue linen tunic with a black leather belt, and settled for simple black cotton slacks. Just because she felt somehow naked without it, she placed a small dagger at her belt. She also tried to tame her dirty red hair, washing it then tying it into a ponytail that reached below her upper back.

When she was done, her eyes went to the balcony and the waterfall beyond. In the first time in what seemed like a century, she walked to it and leaned onto the stone railing to glance down at the water. It calmed her and reminded her why she was there. She had a mission. And she had volunteered for one reason and one reason only: she knew the Elves, she liked them, and she spoke their language.

Someone cleared his throat behind her and made her jump.

The waterfall had covered the knocks of a Man – because he was of the Men's kin – and his entrance in the room.

He was tall, even for someone his kin – almost as tall as an Elf – and had long greying brown hair and stormy grey eyes. He was dressed in the same colour and his scarred hands looked like the hands of a warrior. These were the scars a bowman could get – scratches and cuts from the bowstring – and those of a skilled swordsman.

She stood straighter somehow and bowed the head. "I am Baraz, daughter of Bofur and Ariana. Emissary to King Dain Ironfoot."

He smiled, the smile making his eyes twinkle in a pleasant and welcoming way. "Well met, Baraz of Erebor. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

She bowed the head again, then looked at him with a curious glance. "You are a Man, aren't you?"

He chuckled once, the sound deep but not mocking. "Yes, I am."

The simple affirmation was clear enough, but his strangely pointy ears and the fact that his eyes seemed older than what his overall appearance claimed was puzzling. Was he really only a Man?

But he shook her off her questioning. "Lady Arwen asked me to escort you to some of your friends. She is currently taken with your companions and thought you'd like to see...friendlier faces." He grinned.

Her eyes widened in curiosity. "Some of my friends? Well, now I am curious..." She walked to him and both exited the room.

This Aragorn's speech and manners really puzzling her. He was almost an Elf to her... And what about the way he seemed to steer through Rivendell as easily as if he had lived his whole life there?

* * *

><p>They reached a sunny courtyard with many a bench to sit on.<p>

Three little people were sat there, smoking through wooden pipes, talking animatedly.

Aragorn cleared his throat and all three little heads turned, eyes widening upon seeing Baraz. "I believe you might know this young person..."

He let out an amused laugh as all three Hobbits – because, of course, it were Hobbits – jumped from their perch and ran to the newcomer with many a 'Miss Baraz!' that made her smile widely.

She did not recognize those young Hobbits. They looked so young that they surely were still younglings when she left Hobbiton all these years prior. But she was so happy to be reunited with the Halflings that she sat on a bench and clapped in her hands. "I did not know some of my dear folk was here! What a pleasant surprise!"

They laughed, and she noticed Aragorn had left the scene, probably to give them a little more privacy.

One Hobbit, with sandy-blonde hair and big brown eyes, sat beside her in awe. "We did not know you were coming! Lord Elrond said some Dwarves might come from the Lonely Mountain, but we did not know!"

She chuckled. "I did not know either until I volunteered. And I am happy to have done so..." Then her eyes lingered on each and every small figure, and she sighed. "However, my memory is not as it used to be. So I am afraid I cannot put names on your friendly faces..."

The Hobbit next to her let out an exclamation and stood back next to his companions. "Oh, but of course!" He cleared his throat and stood straighter. "I am Meriadoc Brandybuck. But everyone calls me Merry."

Baraz nodded with a smile. Despite his living in Buckland most of the time, she knew Merry by name. He was related to Frodo and spent some time in Bag End in his early years.

The second Hobbit, with hair almost as red as hers and big blue eyes, the one who seemed the youngest, then tried to stand as tall as Merry beside him. "I am Peregrin Took. But you can call me-"

"Pippin!" Baraz let out the nickname with a gasp. She did the maths easily and quickly, then a harsh stare placed itself on Merry beside him. "And why is it that Pippin is here with you? He is not 33 yet! He is not even 30 yet!"

Merry stared at his feet in shame. "We did not...we did not..." he couldn't finish his somehow excuse, but Pippin changed the subject easily.

"You remember me, Miss Poppy?"

She smiled at the ancient nickname Bilbo had given her, and nodded. "I could not forget you even if I wished to, young Pippin..." then her stare became harder, albeit more mischievous. "I do hope you are not stealing from other Hobbits' gardens anymore!"

Pippin blushed and Merry laughed, but both remained silent on the matter, giving her all the information she needed.

Her eyes then went to the last Hobbit, who stood uneasily beside his companions. He was chubbier than the other two, with dirty-blonde hair and big hazel eyes. He was fidgeting with his hands to show his uneasiness.

"And who might you be, then, Master Hobbit?"

He met her eyes and she realised he had probably not been uneasy because of her but because of something else. He seemed to shake off other thoughts, then he cleared his throat. "Samwise Gamgee, Miss. I am Master Frodo's gardener."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I remember you. Although I knew your father Hamfast better." Then she paused, realising the most important message Samwise had let pass. "Frodo's gardener, you said? Does this mean Frodo is here as well?"

All three Hobbits nodded, even if Sam was less enthusiastic than his companions. "He has been wounded on our way here. Lord Elrond is tending to him."

Baraz' brow furrowed. "Wounded? How? By whom?"

Merry opened his mouth as if to speak, but a deeper voice behind them prevented him from starting what seemed to be a tale to tell.

"Now now, Miss Baraz... There will be time for stories later!"

She stood abruptly and whirled around, her eyes wide. "Gandalf!"

The wizard stood as tall as ever, leaning on his staff as always, even if he looked more tired than usual. "Hello there, Miss Baraz. It has been too long since we last saw each other. Lady Arwen just informed me of your presence among us. I must say it is a nice surprise!"

She smiled. "I could not miss an occasion to leave Erebor..."

The wizard lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed? Well, it seems you too have a tale for us. But later, later! Now, we must go and feast!"

The three Hobbits noisily agreed that it was past time to eat, but Gandalf lifted a hand to stop them in their enthusiasm. "Wait wait! Samwise Gamgee, you shall come with me first. Frodo is awake." Sam gasped and hurried to stand by the wizard while he glanced down at Baraz. "Can you remember the way to the dining hall or should I send Glorfindel?"

She smiled and shook her head. "I do remember the way, thank you, Gandalf."

He nodded and left with Sam, even if he warned her with a quick 'Do not let these young rascals do anything foolish!'.

* * *

><p>If in all truth Baraz did remember the way to the dining hall in perfect certainty, she could not remember a time when Rivendell had been that full of people. During her previous visit, she had indeed seen many an Elf walking this way and that and doing all sort of things, but as many as then.<p>

All seemed to prepare for something, their pale eyes set onto the horizon, their thin lips set in a line as if there were darker thoughts to be thought, darker paths to be taken.

Merry and Pippin strode beside her, engrossed in some talk about the quality of the Elves' meals, their hands tucked in hers as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It made her feel like a mother guiding her children through a giant home, what with her height towering over theirs, and their so young age.

After doing the maths, she was certain that Pippin should not have taken part in whatever adventure this was. He was only 28 years of age, and that, among Hobbits, was far too young for anything. Including taking a trip from Hobbiton to Bywater. Merry, on the other hand, was not much older, with his 36 years of life. He had turned of age merely three years prior, and again, three years were not far enough in Hobbit's time.

Which made her wonder even more thoroughly: why had they all been summoned to Rivendell?

When they reached the hall, many a guest was already there, most standing around the table as they waited for their host.

Merry and Pippin immediately hurried down the table to Arwen, who had been talking to the Dwarves' emissaries. Baraz saw her welcome the two Hobbits and introduce them to the three taller folk.

The table would be full, she realised. Not less then twenty chairs were scattered around the long oaken trunk, silver plates disposed in front of each in a beautiful display like a star-map.

A soft clearing of throat made her look to her left, where Aragorn stood in his grey and somehow dull clothing. He looked out of place in such a colourful hall, but the small smile on his lips and the way he held himself made him still look friendly.

She bowed the head. "Aragorn."

He answered in kind. "Miss Baraz. I trust you have found your way here without assistance."

She looked around, her eyes playing on the scene and remembering a time when only her father, Arwen, Glorfindel and Elrond's sons joined their host for diner in less grand gathering. She nodded. "I dare say I could always find my way here wherever I was within the city walls, don't you?"

He smiled wider. "Yes, Rivendell does that to people." He paused then gestured her to join the party. "May I ask you something?" Upon seeing her nod, he proceeded. "Your mother...Ariana..." he shifted on his feet in a sudden take of uneasiness, "did she die of old age?"

Baraz nodded, her blue eyes settling on the tall Man, trying to find a secret he was surely hiding behind his enquiry. "Yes, she did." Her gaze became hard. "Did you know her?" It seemed impossible to her. After all, the Quest had taken place more than seventy-eight years prior, and Ariana had scarcely left Hobbiton at all after their settling down there, so...yes, it seemed improbable that Aragorn could have met her.

And still, he nodded. "I was but a child back then, but I remember her. She was kind and witty person. She made us all laugh."

"A child?! Pray tell, Aragorn, how is it that you could be so old and yet look so young?!"

He seemed on the brink of answering, but he glanced over her shoulder and his answer lost itself in a smile. "I fear this is a story for another time, Miss Baraz. For the time being, I believe another of your friends has presently arrived."

Her first thought went to Frodo, but as the figure approaching was smaller yet and accompanied by only one Elf instead of Gandalf and Sam, she soon realised it was a whole other person.

A smile formed onto her lips as she hurried to the newest addition's side. "Uncle Bilbo!"

The Hobbit had aged considerably in those last eighteen years, but thankfully, the process had seemed to have slowed down, as Glorfindel had told her. His hair was so thin you could see the pattern of the skull under it, and it was so white the shirt he wore seemed almost yellow. His little hands were covered in age-spots and one was gripping a thin cane while the other grasped onto his guide's arm.

He too smiled upon seeing her. "Poppy my dear! What a pleasant surprise! I was writing a song for you not this morning! I am so glad you came!"

Finally he reached her and she gestured to his support that she could take the matter in her own hands. She carefully placed the Hobbit's hand on the crook of her arm and guided him to the chair Glorfindel soon moved from the table, several places down from what it used to be.

While he sat, Bilbo continued to babble as if he had not realised there was a far more numerous company that night than any other. "Yes, a wonderful song, and I was thinking that perhaps your father could take the sheet and play music to it. I've always been partial to Bofur's flute, yes... What do you think, Poppy?"

She smiled, although she was realising that he had probably not noticed her and her father's absence as much as he should have. "It's a wonderful idea, Uncle. Now, excuse me for a moment. I have some friends to greet."

"Of course, Poppy, of course! Do go! You are young! Meet young people! Marry one! All I ask is don't choose Frodo... You'd be terrible for each other..."

She did not even roll her eyes at the old banter of her uncle who had always seemed to wish her to marry his heir so she officially entered the family. Instead, she placed a kiss on his cheek and joined her companions, thinking it best to stay low for the time being.

To her utmost surprise, Gloin did not chastise her for her familiarity with the old Hobbit. Instead, he gestured to the two younger ones not far and still engrossed in talk with Arwen.

"Do you know these young lads?"

She nodded. "I do. They were but younglings when I left Hobbiton, but I know them."

"And are Hobbits all as..." he made an ample gesture as if he could not find his words, "energetic?"

She chuckled. "I'm afraid they are only getting started, Uncle Gloin..."

He opened his mouth as if to call her off the nickname, but the arrival of their host cut his words before they even left his lips.

Elrond was looking as regal as ever. His long dark hair was plaited and his brow was crowned with mithril. Gandalf, who walked beside him, looked almost small beside the tall Elf, and the two figures strolling behind them both even more so.

Baraz' heart leaped in her throat when she noticed how pale Frodo was, and how he leaned onto Sam. Under his white shirt and brown waist-coat, she could make the lines of a bandage covering his left shoulder.

He did not seem to notice her as Elrond placed him and his companion around the table.

Gandalf sat at Elrond's left, with Bilbo next to him, and Aragorn next to Bilbo. Glorfindel sat on his lord's right, with Frodo and Sam next.

The Dwarves, with the exception of Gloin, sat on the left side, while Arwen and a few other Elves sat on the right. Merry and Pippin were sat on the upper end of the table onto high chairs and on top of several cushions.

When Elrond stood again, no one imitated him. He towered over the party with his height but also the weight of his gaze. He lifted his silver goblet. "I welcome you all to Imladris. It is my pleasure to share with you my home and my food and wine. Please feast on the name of Luthien the Fair, for she was fairest among the fair."

The Elves repeated his last words, while the Dwarves preferred to dedicate the meal to Mahal. Aragorn, on Baraz' right, soon enquired on her silence. "Do you not...thank...for the food you eat?"

She blushed uneasily under his scrutiny. "I do not belong to either race my parents gave me. Therefore, I do not know who to thank."

Aragorn's grey eyes darkened at that, then he gently clinked his goblet against hers. "Then, as people who do not belong, let's thank our Lord Elrond for the food he provides."

She nodded her agreement and took a sip of wine.

* * *

><p>Although he sat not far from her across the table, Frodo did not seem to notice Baraz first. He joined in a conversation with Gloin who looked overly happy to talk about matters of Erebor with someone who did not already know everything.<p>

Aragorn soon started to talk with Bilbo next to him, and with Gimli and Frír talking in Khuzdûl in ushered tones, Baraz was left without a companion to talk to.

Except...

"Baraz?" she raised her head to meet with Arwen's gentle gaze across the table. The Elf-maiden gestured to the Elf next to her. "I do not believe you have met our guests from Greenwood... This is Legolas Thranduilion."

Baraz' blood froze in her veins as her eyes did the same on the Elf's face.

Legolas son of Thranduil. She had heard so many things about him from her mother that she had almost pictured him to be the perfect sight on earth.

And she was not so far from the truth.

While she had always thought he would have inherited his father's silver hair, he had soft brown hair that fell down his back, delicately pointy ears and eyes as blue as a clear summer sky.

He did not seem to realise her flush, for he bowed the head with a small smile. "I knew your mother and dare say I counted her among my friends. I do hope I can do the same with you."

She shook off her contemplation and bowed the head as well. "I do share your hopes."

His neighbour then asked for his attention as they started to speak quickly in Sindarin, too quickly for her to understand the topic.

But Arwen saved her from yet another moment of solitude. "I do hope you are happy to have met old friends here?"

Baraz nodded with a smile that tasted like nostalgia. "It has surely made me understand that I missed the Shire..." Her eyes went to Merry and Pippin who were battling about who would drink his goblet the quickest, and smiled in a very motherly way. "I have missed the Halflings..."

Arwen nodded her understanding and the two of them then started a long conversation about Baraz' life in Erebor: her friends; her work as a healer; her hopes and fears...

* * *

><p>Diner ended as Elrond stood and waited for his daughter to do the same. Then they both guided the party towards a cosy room where a fire cracked. Its purpose clear: a room for talking.<p>

But as she was about to step inside, Baraz was stopped by a small hand on her arm.

She whirled around and met Frodo's clear eyes. A smile formed onto her lips, but before she could speak, he pushed Sam forward. "Do go in, Sam... I'll be in safe hands."

Sam nodded and strolled inside, and a knowing Gandalf closed the door onto the party.

Frodo sighed and it struck Baraz again that he looked sicker, less merry, older than the last time she had seen him so long prior.

"I am sorry if I have not spoken to you earlier, Miss Baraz... I-"

"You do not have to apologize, Frodo..." she smiled softly. "The mere sight of you is enough to make me happy." She paused. "I have missed you..."

He smiled too, and it brought some colour to his cheeks. "And I you, Miss Baraz..."

Then, in a moment of peace and quiet, she knelt before him and brought her arms around his slender frame and into a true hug. He placed his curly head on her shoulder and hugged her back.

The moment lasted, and Baraz realised just how much she had missed he who she had begun to think of as a brother. He had shared her games, her stories, had told her some of his own, had pranked Uncle Bilbo almost every time she asked him to join... They had been good friends for too long not to miss the other's presence...

"I am sorry you have had to suffer through your journey here... Though I do not know the whole story and doubt I ever will...I wished it never happened..."

Frodo untangled himself from her arms and brought his little hand to his shoulder, wincing a little as if he was recalling the pain of the wound. "Yes, this is not the time for such stories... Let's enjoy the moment while we can..." He then took her hand to help her to her feet. "But please, do me the honour of your presence by my side tonight? It has been so long..."

She smiled widely and nodded. "With pleasure, my dear friend..."

* * *

><p>When they joined the party again, the Elves were asking Bilbo for one of his songs. As Baraz understood, he had been singing those every day since he had arrived eighteen years prior, and had yet again written one for the occasion.<p>

So she helped Frodo to sit onto the floor and sat beside him, placing his head onto her shoulder when she noticed how the warmth of the fire and the music some Elves has started to play seemed to lull him to a peaceful sleep.

And she too started to feel the power of such peacefulness as Bilbo's first words echoed in the room...

_Eärendil was a mariner_

_that tarried in Arvernien;_

_he built a boat of timber felled_

_in Nimbrethil to journey in;_

_her sails he wove of silver fair,_

_of silver were her lanterns made,_

_her prow he fashioned like a swan,_

_and light upon her banners laid._


	8. 7, The Council of Elrond

**_Disclaimer:_****_ Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Fìli, son of Kìli and some secundary characters._**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Playlist for this chapter: <strong>The Council of Elrond and Evenstar from the Fellowship of the Ring OST._

* * *

><p><strong>7. The Council of Elrond<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>3018 T.A.<strong>_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>October<strong>_

* * *

><p>The following morning, Baraz woke up with the sun. She soon realised she had fallen asleep in her clothes, and hurried to wash and change before she was waited for at the Council.<p>

The previous night, Lord Elrond had indeed sent everyone to bed after Bilbo's song to get a good night's rest, announcing a gathering of great importance early on the following day. And here it was the following day, and Baraz would have felt horrible if she was late to such a thing of importance.

She changed into lighter clothes this time, shedding her riding tunic and slacks aside and instead choosing a light blue linen dress she put a belt around with the usual dagger. She plaited her hair on the side with Fíli's family braids, and threw herself a glance in the mirror. She hated herself in a dress, because she sometimes felt as far from being a woman as could be, but she also felt the usual spike of pleasure when a man looked at her more intently when she passed, her legs almost bare for all to see.

This dress was long and hid her legs to the ankles, while her feet were covered in supple boots, but she still felt as if it was a forbidden thing to do.

And with a sticking tongue to her reflection, Baraz exited her room and hurried down the ivy-covered corridors and towards the dining hall for breakfast.

* * *

><p>When she reached it, only a few guests were there, scattered around the long table at the places they had taken the evening prior.<p>

Merry and Pippin both stood and hurried to her side when she climbed the three stairs leading to the scene, and they pulled her to their end of the table with many a 'We have so many things to tell you, Miss Baraz!', so many in fact that she could not refuse.

So she sent an apologetic smile to Aragorn who was sitting alone on his side of the table, but he merely chuckled and gestured them to proceed. She noticed he seemed lighter than the day prior, and she chose to believe it had something to do with the magic of Rivendell.

Frír, who was the only other guest present, grumbled in his beard as she sat with the Halflings instead of him, but she decided not to pay attention.

"What is it you wanted to tell me, then?" she asked while grabbing a pear and slicing it in pieces.

Merry chuckled as Pippin almost choked on a piece of bread in his hurry to speak up, and took upon him to start whatever story they wanted her to know. "We have met such strange people on our way here!"

"Is that so?" she smirked while exchanging yet another glance with Aragorn who chuckled again. She had been made aware of the fact that he had served as guide to the Hobbits on their way to Imladris.

Merry nodded frantically but Pippin tugged on her sleeve to regain her full attention. "Yes, and we were attacked on Weathertop! By Ringwraiths!"

Aragorn hissed under his breath and when Baraz looked his way, she saw he was staring at Frír in worry, and the Dwarf himself was staring at Pippin in utter curiosity.

Baraz had herself felt her blood freeze in her veins at the mention of 'Ringwraiths', although she did not know what and who they were. She felt as if the name in itself was a cause for fear...

Merry cleared his throat as if trying to regain some gaiety in their story. "Yes yes, all that... But most of all, we have seen Wood-Elves!"

Baraz' brow furrowed. "Wood-Elves? Come on, Merry, surely you cannot feel so surprised now that you have arrived here!"

Pippin laughed out loud and again almost choked on a piece of bread, but Merry turned a bright shade of red. "Yes, no, I mean of course no, Miss Baraz! It's just that...you see...hum..."

"The Elves are leaving Middle-Earth." All eyes turned to Aragorn, who was staring at nothing in particular in front of him. "Many of them are journeying to the Grey Havens as we speak. To take a ship into the West..."

Baraz sighed and finished her breakfast. "Well, this is all very sad. Too sad for me, I dare say... I am going to walk a little, before Lord Elrond summons us all." She glanced down at her two youngest companions. "Do not do anything foolish in my absence! Including food fights!"

She noticed with a satisfied nod that Pippin had the decency to avert his eyes, then she bowed the head at Aragorn and walked away and back towards one of the quietest courtyards in the city.

She needed time to assess what little she had learnt.

Four Hobbits and Aragorn, she guessed, had been attacked by Ringwraiths. And if she did not know what a Ringwraith was, she could guess by their names what they were after. Her Uncle Bilbo's old Ring, who she knew was Frodo's now...

And the Elves were leaving Middle-Earth... And if the thought of it was sad enough, it also was worrying. If the Elves were leaving, it only meant one thing: things were really as bad as she had feared. Worse perhaps: as bad as her mother had feared...

* * *

><p>Her feet brought her to one of the most beautiful places in Rivendell: a courtyard opening onto an endless field, the river flowing at the end of it, a sea of soft grass and flowers before your eyes as far as you could see. She sat on a stone bench and folded her hands onto her lap, her thoughts going to her mother and to her riddles.<p>

Ariana had once told her that she had thought for a long time before she agreed to return to Middle-Earth from her strange land. When Baraz had enquired on her reasons, she had told her that dark times were ahead and that she did not wish her child to live those times.

She could remember the sheer fear in her otherwise fearless mother's gaze as she spoke those words, and the shiver than ran up her spine at the sight. Ariana had been swift in trying to lift the mood, but her words had stuck.

And then, there had been that time, so long before, when she burnt the red-leathered book. She had not understood the implications of such a gesture, because she knew her mother loved her books dearly, but now, she was beginning to understand.

More than to prevent her from knowing things that had yet to pass, she had not wanted her to fright at the thought of these 'dark times'. She wanted her daughter to remain as carefree as she could be.

Except she had stopped to be carefree the day she had agreed to betroth herself to Fíli.

* * *

><p>"Miss Baraz?"<p>

The sound of a soft voice she had not heard a lot made her jump a little. She then realised the light was shadowed by a tall figure, his hands folded in his back, his long brown hair flowing in the quiet breeze. She tried a small smile and bowed the head. "Legolas. Greetings."

He smiled back. "Do you mind if I sat with you for a moment? I am in dire need of company." She nodded and he sat beside her on the bench, his frame hiding hers with his height.

She felt so small compared to all these Elves...

"Can I enquire on why you are here so early?"

She looked at her companion and noticed how it felt natural and easy to be in his presence although she had only officially met him the night prior. No doubt it'd make you feel this way when meeting an old friend of your mother's...or so she thought.

She sighed a little and gazed back onto the scenery before her eyes. "I must admit that I am worried about why we have been called here. Although I am extremely happy to have met some old friends – the Hobbits, of course – I cannot help but wonder, and wondering without knowing makes me restless..."

He nodded gravely. "I believe we will all know for sure why we have been called upon once Lord Elrond summons us. It would not be long now."

She nodded again, then tried a glance at him. "Who did you come here with?"

"No one your mother would have known," he chuckled knowingly, "Tauriel is...well...she does not like to leave Greenwood too often."

Baraz nodded. "I understand. But I would have appreciated to see her once more, for I cannot know when I will have the opportunity again."

He looked down at her, his fair eyes widened in curiosity. "You know Tauriel personally?"

She nodded with a smirk. "When I was younger, I would often sneak off our camp within the forest and leave my father alone in the dead of night to explore. Once I fell onto Tauriel who was watching, I believe. And after that night, I would meet her regularly on my visits to or from the Lonely Mountain. She is a very good friend."

Legolas nodded. "She is." He then looked up as if startled by something. "Another visitor has arrived, it seems." He looked at her and outstretched a hand. "Would you come and see who it is with me?"

Baraz stood and took his hand gratefully, smiling widely. "I would, thank you."

He too stood and both walked calmly towards the main courtyard, the Elf slowing his pace to help her follow.

When they reached the courtyard, Glorfindel was already welcoming the newest addition to the guest-party. It was a Man, to Baraz' surprise. He was tall, with broad shoulders, long dark-brown hair and grey eyes – it seemed most people she met had grey eyes as stormy as a winter sky. He sported a beard and his piercing gaze was darting to each corner of the city as if he was expecting a foe to erupt from a balcony and take aim with his bow.

He was wearing a dark-silver armour and an ivory horn hung at his belt. On his chest, Baraz could see the outlines of a tree.

Legolas sighed. "So this is the emissary from Gondor."

"Gondor?" Baraz' brow furrowed. She did not remember seeing the sign of this tree in the drawings her mother had shown her of the Men of Gondor...but then, she could have been mistaken.

Legolas nodded while pulling her towards a empty hall to leave the new guest settle down. "His sigil is the White Tree of Gondor, the symbol of Minas Tirith." His brow furrowed too. "Their Steward is not the wisest of men... We will probably have to be careful of his...ill words."

Baraz shook her head in fake amusement. "You are far too cynical, Legolas. I am certain this Man will be equally as wise as each of us. And I should know, for I am not really wise."

Legolas did not answer.

A bell chimed not a moment later, and Legolas stopped in his tracks, his arm leaving Baraz'. "I am sorry, but I have to retrieve my people before heading to the Council." He bowed the head. "It was very nice spending time with you, _Pernogoth_."

The nickname no longer bothered her, since she had learnt, long prior, what it meant. So she smiled and parted her own way. "Likewise, Legolas Thranduilion."

She found Gloin, Gimli and Frír in the dining hall. Gimli seemed very displeased to leave his breakfast behind, although he had spent a good time the night before complaining about the lack of meat in the Elves' menu.

He hurried to Baraz' side and offered her his arm. After spending so long a moment in Legolas' company, she almost felt guilty. But as she took Gimli's arm, she also felt extremely uneasy. So this was it then... They'd finally learn the real meaning of this...meeting.

* * *

><p>Lord Elrond and most his guests were waiting in a beautiful open courtyard with a flowery ceiling that let sunlight in. Elrond stood before a high chair, Glorfindel by his side, as others arrived.<p>

Frodo was already there, sitting next to Gandalf. The other three Hobbits were nowhere to be seen, but Baraz would have been damned if they had not found a way to spy on the meeting. Next to Gandalf sat Legolas and his two silvan companions. Then next again were four chairs, no doubt for the Dwarves who walked to them, Frír's nose upturned as he realised his direct neighbour. He glanced at Baraz and offered her the chair closest to the Elves, and she rolled her eyes before sitting down. Next to the Dwarves came the Man who had arrived earlier, his grey eyes dancing around the company. And finally, next to him, sat Aragorn, who had shed his grey coat and stood in a leather-bound tunic of a dark-purple shade.

As she sat, Baraz once again realised she was the only female present, for even Arwen had not been invited, it seemed. The unknown Man stared at her for a moment before she caught his gaze and he averted his eyes to their host.

Elrond chose that moment to stand, and while Baraz knew everyone present, she guessed some had not had the chance to meet every guest as properly as could be, for he started by introducing every party present.

He first pointed at Frodo, who sat alone and blushing, his little frame so thin and weak no one could possibly guess why he was there at all. Baraz also noticed he was touching his left shoulder from time to time as if sporting an itch. "Welcome, my friends. He is the Hobbit, Frodo, son of Drogo. Few have come here through greater peril or on an errand more urgent." A lot nodded. Apparently, Frodo was one of the few to be known of almost everyone. "Next to him is the wizard Gandalf the Grey, one of the Istarì." Gandalf was obviously known to all. "Legolas Thranduilion and his two companions come from Greenwood, the Elven realm in the East, and next to them are the Dwarves from Erebor. Gloin, his son Gimli and general Frír are accompanied by Miss Baraz, whose mother most of us knew once, Miss Ariana." There was a general nod within the Elves, even Legolas' companions, and Frodo, Gandalf and Aragorn. In fact, the only one who had not known Ariana was the Man who was presented next. "Here is Boromir from the South. He arrived this grey morning and seeks for counsel. I have bidden him to be present, for here his questions will be answered." Many bowed the head in greeting and the named Boromir bowed the head back.

Baraz then realised Elrond had not, and did not seem to wish to introduce Aragorn. The Man sat there quietly, as if everyone present knew who he was. But, as his curious gaze soon proved, Boromir did not.

For a long period of time, the Council talked of matters that happened in every realm. Baraz then had confirmation that Boromir indeed dwelt from the White City of Minas Tirith in the South, and that his father the Steward Denethor had sent him to Lord Elrond after he had seen something 'in the omens'. Lord Elrond and Gandalf's brows furrowed at those words, but they did not say more.

Legolas confirmed that Greenwood had once again started to become the forest that people had called Mirkwood once upon a time, and that the great fortress of Dol Guldur was once again alive and buzzing with unwanted life. He said that the great Beorn, the changeling, had died several years prior and that his sons, the Beornings, were the only ones to be safe from such a new threat.

Then there was the tale of Gloin. He chose to tell the Council of the retaking of Moria almost thirty years prior, and how Balin, Ori and Oin had been lost on them after they managed to enter Khazad-dûm again. But it was his next words that managed to make her blood freeze in her veins, for she had ignored such a thing had happened.

"About a year ago a messenger came to our King Dain, but not from Moria – from Mordor." There was a general gasp, and everyone tensed. "'The Lord Sauron the Great', he said, 'wishes for your friendship.' He said he would give us Rings of power for it, but mostly, he asked about _Hobbits_, what and where they were, because he knew one had once been known to us." Baraz' grip on the arms of her chair became painful, her knuckles deadly white, and she realised Frodo and Aragorn were staring at her.

No, Bilbo had not been the one to take part in the Quest. But her mother had told her of a tale, of riddles in the dark of the Misty Mountains. Of how she had introduced herself as 'Ari Baggins of the Shire'. Why she had said such things, Ariana never said. But now Baraz understood the whole implications of her words. She exchanged a glance with Aragorn who seemed to understand her thoughts and nodded quietly as Gloin continued his tale.

"The messenger offered us invaluable gifts if we told the Lord Sauron of this thief's whereabouts, and threatened Dain of dark times ahead if he refused. Dain dismissed it by saying he'd talk about it with his counsellors, and the messenger left. It left us all very weary, for we did not know much about what the hobbit had apparently stolen, but Sauron had offered us great gifts, one of which was the retaking of Moria for indefinite times." He paused, his gaze darkening. "Twice the messenger has come back for an answer, and twice he left unanswered. His third – and last, so he says – visit will be soon in the end of the year, and we came here also to seek counsel, for we do not know what to do and why Sauron seeks a Hobbit – one we know had nothing to do with the Quest at all. We also know that messengers went to King Brand of Dale, and we fear he might yield."

Elrond nodded gravely. "You have done well to come then. For our meeting has everything to do with this...messenger seeking Bilbo Baggins."

Some guests exchanged confused glances. Others stared at Baraz who felt like disappearing in her chair. Glorfindel was the only one to smile at her, and this small smile gave her the strength to survive what was to come.

"I am sorry to ask, Lord Elrond, but why should the Dark Lord Sauron seek Bilbo Baggins?" Legolas asked, his brown brows lifted in confusion. "He has not accomplished the Quest, as our Master Dwarf said earlier."

Elrond nodded and glanced at Baraz. "Would you care to enlighten our guests, Miss Baraz? After all, you and Mister Frodo here are the only ones to know the tale."

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, her temples beginning to throb faintly. "My mother... Ariana..." she opened her eyes again to find all eyes on her. "She accomplished the Quest in place of Frodo's uncle, Bilbo. She was a daughter of Men but her size helped her pass for a Hobbit when needed. She knew not many among the foes she encountered knew what a Hobbit was and believed it safer to claim she was one. Among those foes was...a Ring-bearer."

Gandalf nodded. "Yes, the creature named Gollum." To Baraz' surprise, Legolas and Aragorn nodded. "We have apprehended him and we know he has been tortured by the Enemy into telling what he knew of the Ring of power."

Baraz felt her blood freeze again in dread. "Well then, he must have said his beloved Ring had gone to my mother, for she found it in the goblin caves of the Misty Mountains." There was a general gasp again. "But she did not keep it. When the Quest was over, she and my father left Erebor with the distinct wish never to come back. They met with Bilbo Baggins one last time, or so they thought, and she gave him the tokens she had acquired: the Ring, and her elven sword, Sting."

She saw Frodo's blue eyes widening. Had he never heard that part of the tale? But he knew his uncle had not been the one to help on the Quest, didn't he?

She ended her own tale. "My parents left Middle-Earth for three years, after which they decided to return. My mother was pregnant and gave birth to me a few months later. They settled in the Shire, but she never asked the Ring or Sting back to Bilbo."

"And now, the One Ring has come to Bilbo's heir..." Elrond looked at Frodo who was soon the object of all attentions. He gulped noisily, then stood, his thin fingers going to a pocket in his waistcoat. He walked to the plinth in the middle of the hall, and placed upon it a heavy-looking golden ring.

Baraz felt all colour leaving her face. This ring made her very uneasy. There was something about it that made her heart race and the hair on the back of her neck rise.

* * *

><p>Elrond stood then, turning around to face away from the company, his long fingers entwined before him. "It is time, I believe, to tell each of you the tale of the One Ring. For if many know how it began, only a few know how it came to us..."<p>

He started a tale that Baraz knew a few about, for her mother had been keen to tell her of the great days of the Second Age when the Rings of power were forged in Eregion. Instinctively, she passed a hand over her chest and felt the familiar bump of her mother's ring under her dress. Ariana had told her never to speak of its sister, the real Nenya, for it was in the possession of the Lady Galadriel, and her copy was but a trinket she kept in memory of this great lady of Elves who had once given her her friendship.

Elrond spoke of the Battle of Dagorlad and the believed fall of Sauron by the end of Isildur of Gondor. When he spoke of how he remembered these days well, Frodo enquired on his age, and Elrond told him he was the direct descendant of Luthien and Doriath, one of the few Half-Elves to remain. Baraz, of course, knew this, for Luthien's tale was one of her favourites. But to hear how Elrond remembered the fall of Gil-galad, his sire, in the Battle of Dagorlad, was still disturbing. For Baraz could almost count the deaths in Elrond's voice. So many had fallen and so few had survived...

Then Elrond told of Isildur's Bane, how the King of Gondor had taken the Ring for himself and refused to destroy it to end the bad in the world. Boromir listened to this intently, for he said he had never heard that part of the story, but Baraz kept her eyes locked onto Aragorn's frame. He was sitting tense on his chair, his hands two fists on his lap, and his eyes almost closed as if he was trying not to listen to something painful. She wondered why he looked to...pained by this part of the tale, but promised herself to enquire on this later.

By then Boromir too stood and talked about Minas Tirith with such passion that his gaze was ablaze. In his words, many understood he meant for the Ring to go to his father the Steward, in hope that it would help Men fight the impending war against the forces of Sauron.

Aragorn then stood too. "The Ring will not go to Gondor!"

Boromir looked at him, trying to stand taller, but Aragorn was of taller stature and was so naturally charismatic that it was to no avail. "And what right do you have over my land, Ranger?"

Elrond huffed. "He is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, descendant of Isildur Elendil's son. He is the Chief of the Dunedain in the North, and he is your rightful King."

Boromir huffed too. "Minas Tirith does not have a King, and certainly not a Dunedain at that."

But Frodo had stood as well, but he was so small none had noticed until he spoke up, his blue eyes going to Aragorn before him. "Then the Ring has to go to you!"

Aragorn shook his head. "It does not belong to any of us. It has to be destroyed, and that's the end of it." He glared at Boromir as he said those last words, and the Man sat back down in his chair.

Glorfindel, who had remained silent since the very beginning, cleared his throat softly, and all turned their eyes to him. He then started to chant what seemed like a prophecy to Baraz' ears:

_All that is gold does not glitter,_

_Not all those who wander are lost;_

_The old that is strong does not wither,_

_Deep roots are not reached by the frost._

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_

_A light from the shadows shall spring;_

_Renowed shall be blade that was broken:_

_The crownless again shall be king._

A silence followed these words, but it had the power to cease Boromir's harsh words.

Elrond turned back to his guests. "Time has come to take a decision. The Ring has to be destroyed, but the only place it can be so is in the depths of Orodruin, Mount Doom in the land of Mordor."

There was a long silence during which many seemed to ponder his words, then a small silhouette stood back up. "Then I shall bring the Ring to the Mountain."

All eyes went to Frodo, and all eyes widened at the determination in his gaze. Such a bravery was not often seen in a Hobbit, or so they thought.

Gandalf stood too and placed a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Then I shall go with you."

"And I." Aragorn walked to Frodo and bowed his head to him. "You shall have my sword."

"And my bow!" Legolas stood and went behind the Hobbit. His companions nodded their agreement.

Among the Dwarves, there was a certain doubt, before Gimli cursed in his beard and stood as well. "And my axe!" Verily, it was his father's, but his offer was genuine.

Boromir stood as well, albeit uneasy. "If you will have me, I shall too assist you in your dangerous deed."

No one stood again and Elrond prepared himself to announced the company, but then there was a ruffle and a sandy-blonde head appeared from behind the railing. "Master Frodo will not leave without me!"

Sam took a place next to his master and crossed his arms. Elrond chuckled. "No indeed, for there is no separating you, even when he is invited to a meeting and you are not!"

Then there was another ruffle and two other figures emerged from the other side of the hall from behind a shrubbery. Merry and Pippin took their places beside Frodo and too crossed their arms. "We are going as well!" Merry's tone was trying to make sure to be obeyed, and Baraz, although she could have laughed, felt her blood run colder in her veins upon seeing those young – too young – Hobbits ready to embark on the most dangerous of adventure.

So she could not help herself when she stood as well. "Where these two are going, there shall I go. For I fear they will need protection." She took a place next to Gimli who was shaking his head.

But none addressed her sex or young age or possible lack of experience in the lore of war when she asked to be part of this.

Instead, Elrond nodded and smiled. "Then you shall be the ten members of the Fellowship of the Ring!"

And something heavy downed on Baraz' shoulders. As if she had just signed up for her death...

* * *

><p><em>AN: I wanted to address the end of this chapter. It might appear as though I've chosen to write one of those numerous fanfics where the OC joins the Fellowship. Baraz is joining at first...but she will not stay. You'll see, but don't cringe, and understand her motives. For now, she wants to make sure Merry and especially Pippin - who she thinks of as a younger brother, if not a son - are safe._


End file.
